By DAWN TEFFT
the window is freezing into a lake
and nothing on its surface has vertebrae
The crowds are a loaded pincushion
that pricks me as I lean into
the human tide. The rotunda’s marble
Have you ever read a novel and felt as though the author was speaking directly to you? Or about you? Guernica and The Common contributors come together to read from and discuss fiction they feel was written just for them and who their own work is addressed to, if anyone. Featuring Benjamin Anastas, Dina Nayeri, Kiese Laymon. Moderated by The Common Editor in Chief Jennifer Acker and Guernica Senior Fiction Editor Meakin Armstrong. Click here for more event information and panelist bios.
Find us at:
The Center for Fiction
17 E 47th St,
New York, NY
10017
Towards Algiers
The desert scatters
on our feet. It’s the only
surrender that counts,
vast, unobstructed.
By JUAN ANTONIO GONZÁLEZ IGLESIAS
Translated by CURTIS BAUER
Todas y cada una de las cosas
del mundo tienen hoy exactitud
matinal. Esta dulce luz de Málaga
declara una vez más la equivalencia
entre la realidad y el paraíso.
By JUAN ANTONIO GONZÁLEZ IGLESIA
Translated by CURTIS BAUER
Álvaro Mutis habla lentamente.
Una entrevista en un canal hispano.
Me interesa el desgaste de las cosas.
There was a pile of old vines and twigs in the vineyard. We lit a bonfire and the flames licked daylight into the night sky. Next morning there was a gray and black patch of coldashes, perfectly round. It looked hard, like crushed marbles, so I stepped on it. My boot sank deep into tiny feathers. A gray boot and a brow none told me I should have known better.
Join The Common for postcard readings, cocktails/ aperitivos, music, and dancing inspired by a night in Italy!
Join us for a reading (and for drinks!) celebrating work published in The Common‘s Dispatches column this past year; our featured writers will include Katherine Hill, Ira Sukrungruang, Margot Schlipp, Kurt Caswell, Brandi Katherine Herrera, Jeff Muse, and Hannah Gersen. These poems and essays take us coast to coast with their unique evocation of place.
By NINA PURO
Details Concerning the Individual Denizens and Their Residences
In New Mexico, days end with soaking the frijoles for tomorrow. They start with a lump of bacon grease sizzling in a cast-iron pan, with chipping a chunk of green chilé from one of the blocks in the freezer. People like food that hurts them as they eat it. Even the cocoa has chilé in it and a Spanish name and must be beaten to a froth.