Author name: Bohemian@spirit

by Ostap Slyvynsky; translated by Taras Malkovych Here is a selection of short stories — anecdotes more like, or memories — recorded by Ostap Slyvynsky, a Ukrainian poet, essayist, translator and lecturer at the University of Lviv. Taras Malkovych translated them into English so we might get a sense, however remote, of what the experience of war is […]

by Ostap Slyvynsky; translated by Taras Malkovych FISH, Halyna, Mariupol I have never taken anything that was not mine. And then this man in uniform passes by saying, “They’ve just opened a grocery store. Take something for yourself.” So I did. All I saw inside was out-of-date poultry and people taking it, saying it will be okay

A rap by Madeline Toubiana I’m a little woman you sayWorthless in every which way Mentally ill, deranged, lacking a spinemy blood is a weakness ruining your line. I fail as Jew, as a mother, as a wifeMy paycheque too small to handle your spite. I hear I’m a fucked up racist, a fucked up

 by Loïc Wacquant A dark-skinned, broad-shouldered, African American with searching eyes and a slight stutter, Jake “the Snake” Torrance resides in a depressed neighborhood of the depressed industrial town of East Chicago, Indiana. He rents an unfinished basement in the house of a friend where he lives alone (at age 32, he is single with no

by Chase La Rosa Nav always had to take a shit twenty minutes into his Officer of the Deck watch, which was funny to everyone except Weps, who had to stop eating his off-going meal and re-take the watch. This was the daily routine. Weps would stand his eight hours, and Nav would come up

(for Odie, who went for us, and William, who inspired me to tell of it) by Richard O’Quinn Things were already underway by the time I arrived. Word had made it back of the explosion, injuries, and deaths and the place was awhirl with movement. Hushed voices and serious faces hung in every corner. While

by Madeline Toubiana Fingernails jagged, tanned and thick Aged, well worn like rough leather Spotted with white, from cortisol’s touch His hands, they swallow me up Those hands, they kept me held me tight In their comfort, everything was safe Love is a squeeze an understanding of mutual need No need for words, they said

by Innan Sasaki The first wild rose of the summer has bloomed. It is early May. The wild pink roses are resilient if fragile, modest but charming and, like the people here, tough. I arrive early in the morning. The city is quiet and cold. The morning traffic hasn’t yet started. I wait for the

by Randall Collins Most famous of all the Emperors of China was Ying Cheng, King of the state of Ch’in, who united the Warring States and took the title Ch’in Shih-Huang-ti, the First Emperor.  The thousands of life-sized terracotta warriors buried with him are described by tour guides as the Eighth Wonder of the World.

by Henry Mintzberg “I hope your visit to the refugee camp is not too depressing.” This was just an innocent comment in a message that arrived on my final day. Yet that last word leaped off the page, indeed coalesced my thoughts about the entire experience. When I showed it to Abbas, my host, he laughed.