by Gene Novogrodsky He’s captured, He the Korean-Arabic translator, And his head is cut off, falls to a carpet, And rolls into sand, Blood trailing … Where is the Korean? Where is the Arabic? He, the translator, Dramatic, and the Regular, mono-lingual, Upon death, no blood, Just death. Where is that one language? “What is [...]

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by Gene Novogrodsky My pedals and walks, Overnight buses, Overnight trains, Thumb out, Sign in hand. And no one asks. Why should they? They are me, mine. Purity dictates they Are not for retelling, With hopes for intent faces, Smiles, shock, seduction, Appreciation …. Bothered until travelers Back reported the same, No one asking, many [...]

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