July 26, 2022

“Spare Parts,” Poetry by John Kucera

“Spare Parts,” Poetry by John Kucera

Spare Parts I like best the ones that change: Elephant. Tiger. Bear. Old books on the shelves reflecting every self I’ve ever been. The boy who thought he’d do much better to the man who got fired for correcting his boss. The trips to the zoo and the trips to Europe and the trips back home during midterms where I carried the books in cardboard boxes up staircases to rooms that were long ago abandoned. I’ve outgrown this old house and want to let my old selves breathe. I can’t stand to leave them stacked on the shelves. Or in boxes. I open the small ones last and count the contents. I recount them later because if one went missing it would leave a hollow space. ** Determinism Boxing isn’t really about pain. To hurt…

Continue reading →

February 8, 2022

A. Rayan El Nadim Presents Performance Poetry

A. Rayan El Nadim Presents Performance Poetry

Editor’s Note: A. Rayan El Nadim is an Egyptian poet whose work has been translated from Arabic into English here for your enjoyment on The Fictional Café. He categorizes his work as conceptual and performance poetry, specifically, “a deep dive into myths, folklore, and the secrets of inherited improvisational folk songs that deeply express pain, suffering and dream; the history of the Egyptian folk treasures; the songs of Rababa, a rediscovery of the true history buried in the walls of Egyptian houses; and the rituals of joy and sadness that lived for thousands of years on both banks of the Nile.” My name has been crossed out a long time ago on a brick wall  -1- I searched for my name in my body  I found it engraved in aversion, estrangement, and revulsion  I searched…

Continue reading →

September 24, 2020

“Love on the Road” — The Poetry of Irving Glassman

“Love on the Road” — The Poetry of Irving Glassman

               Love On The Road    We hug and kiss in the fast food parking area   From their SUV my family waves farewell to me  We are on the same road until they slow to approach their exit  For an instant we are side by side  Everyone turns in their seats and throws me an extra kiss  They look like any other family  Except they’re my family                   #   #  #                        Crossing Over               My daughter runs, hops, and skips        To the curb’s edge        For her ritual rite of passage               I assure her it’s safe to cross        She runs, hops and skips        To the opposite curb        “I’m a grown up now,” she yells           I yelled back, “Don’t grow up yet. You have time.” …

Continue reading →

April 26, 2020

“Carson McCullers,” Poetry by Abigail George

“Carson McCullers,” Poetry by Abigail George

Carson McCullers  I will always love music, she said to me. Turned her   face away and became a sad ghost like all the people  that I have loved in my life. The sad ghost, dead snakes,   the religious, the ordered hide mischief in plain sight.   The geranium has a tongue and the sky appears to be   falling. The moon walks wider now. It curls up. The   red-haired sun does not know how to travel lightly in   summer. She swoons. She will fall at your feet if you  remove articles of your clothing. I travel light in these  heavy years. Waving earlier to the good women who   pass me by. With their white teeth and their sweet   breath. Bread to the soul. And the wind is sunburnt from  the form and shape of the river, to the…

Continue reading →