“Five O’Clock, January 2003,” by Adrienne Rich
“On cliffs above a beach / luxuriant in low tide after storms / littered with driftwood hurled and piled and / humanly arranged in fantastic / installations and beyond”
“On cliffs above a beach / luxuriant in low tide after storms / littered with driftwood hurled and piled and / humanly arranged in fantastic / installations and beyond”
Bruno Schulz was one of two great Polish fiction writers of the two decades between the wars, and so luckless was he, so lucky are we by comparison, that we may read his complete works in one long, trash-blown, weedy, windy, starry, swirling, Lower Carpathian day. His complete surviving works, that is—and that is the legendary pity of it. Such a day need not even take up your time, for you may go there in time according to Schulz, a limb of freak time that sprouts seamlessly out of time as we think we know it.
Is this the kitchen where she worked and thought
Is that the loft where their bodies fell
into each other The nail where the mirror
hung the shelf where her college books
eyed her aslant
Those stairs would her bare feet have felt?
Essays by Jaimy Gordon, Gary Adelman, Josephine Donovan, George Watson Fiction by Mario Benedetti, Rita J. Doucette Poetry by Adrienne Rich, Richard Tillinghast, Rick Bass, Vern Rutsala, Lisa Williams, Donovan Hohn, Anna Ziegler, Charles Harper Webb Order This Issue This issue can be ordered for $4 or as part of an annual subscription for $25. Order By …