I’ve been watching the Qasr al Hosn. Watching it since I arrived in August.

Dean Young is one of America’s most celebrated poets, the author of ten poetry collections, recipient of numerous national awards, and a fixture of campus bookstores.

New poems from our print contributors in the U.S. and abroad.

To reach Kumbhalgarh, one drives two hours north from the charming lake city of Udaipur through the Aravalli Mountains.

GABEBA BADEROON | I sense you close, a part of you,
/ your stiff shirt, your hand,
/ never the whole.

ROBERT BAGG
Richard Wilbur first visited Rome with the American Fifth 
Army that liberated the city, just behind the fleeing Germans, on 5 June 1944. 
His division, in trucks, in jeeps, and on mobile artillery, followed the tanks into the southern outskirts of Rome.

KOBUS MOOLMAN
Finally, we arrive at G-Section, brightly lit and brand new with orange walls and shiny aluminium-topped tables and benches. A ping-pong and pool table stand at one end of the large space. A double row of cells rings the room on two sides, with a large metal grille covering the front of the top row.

We stayed with our dearest friend Scott in his parents’ farmhouse, ate fresh vegetables from his mother’s immaculate and enormous garden, walked waist deep through fields of Durum wheat, and watched our son learn to crawl and cut his teeth on an empty beer bottle.

In the fall of 2001, while I was living in the south Thailand border town of Ranong, I had a brief love affair with an Australian woman named Eva. I first met her on the swimming-pool veranda of the aging hotel where I was renting a studio for $150 a month. Travelers would occasionally pass through Ranong to renew their Thai travel visas at the Burmese border, and Eva had just returned from a visa run with a British couple I’d met the day before. That night the four of us went out to drink whiskey and sing karaoke at a local nightclub. The following morning, the British couple headed north for Bangkok, and Eva moved her things into my room.

J. MALCOLM GARCIA
I imagine it this way. Gypsy awakens from a restless sleep, stretches. Hears his muscles and bones crack, sees how his curtains absorb the light 
of a late San Francisco afternoon, and at that moment decides to start drinking again. He doesn’t remember having a booze dream.