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Editor's Note/Nota del Editor: This poem was written in English by a poet who writes in both Spanish and English, and translated into Spanish by another poet who speaks both Spanish and English. Este poema fue escrito en inglés por un poeta que escribe en español e inglés, y se tradujo al español por otro poeta que habla español e inglés.

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The Harrowing

The painful stigmata did not let me drive for long.
I asked Adam to take my place
while I tasted the sights of the barren country.

A bird made of bone, solemn and dead,
flew by
the impatient red skies,
reaching into the scorching sun
and burning.

I poked my face out the window.
The winds of sin
whispered in my ear,
melting thus the skin of my face:
“The dead don’t come back…
never come back…”

The country lingers on
as I listen to its winds one last time.
After three days of driving,
I resurrect.

Desgarrador

El doloroso estigma no me permitió conducir.
Le pedí a Adán que tomara mi lugar para yo poder catar la vista de un campo estéril.

Un ave de hueso, solemne y muerta, pasó volando
por los impacientes cielos rojos hacia un sol abrasador
que la consumió.

Saqué la cara por la ventana.
Vientos pecaminosos
susurraron en mi oído,
y se derritió la piel de mi rostro.

«Los muertos no retornan…
nunca retornan…»

El campo permanece
mientras escucho los vientos por última vez.
Después de conducir tres días, resucito.



Gabriel Ascencio is a Mexican student and writer. He mostly focuses on texts written in Spanish, which can be found at Colectivo Letras & Poesía under his former pseudonym "Dr. Asenjo," and at Revista Extrañas Noches and Letralia.
Current Issue
29 May 2023

We are touched and encouraged to see an overwhelming response from writers from the Sino diaspora as well as BIPOC creators in various parts of the world. And such diverse and daring takes of wuxia and xianxia, from contemporary to the far reaches of space!
By: L Chan
The air was redolent with machine oil; rich and unctuous, and synthesised alcohol, sharper than a knife on the tongue.
“Leaping Crane don’t want me to tell you this,” Poppy continued, “but I’m the most dangerous thing in the West. We’ll get you to your brother safe before you know it.”
Many eons ago, when the first dawn broke over the newborn mortal world, the children of the Heavenly Realm assembled at the Golden Sky Palace.
Winter storm: lightning flashes old ghosts on my blade.
transplanted from your temple and missing the persimmons in bloom
immigrant daughters dodge sharp barbs thrown in ambush 十面埋伏 from all directions
Many trans and marginalised people in our world can do the exact same things that everyone else has done to overcome challenges and find happiness, only for others to come in and do what they want as Ren Woxing did, and probably, when asked why, they would simply say Xiang Wentian: to ask the heavens. And perhaps we the readers, who are told this story from Linghu Chong’s point of view, should do more to question the actions of people before blindly following along to cause harm.
Before the Occupation, righteousness might have meant taking overt stands against the distant invaders of their ancestral homelands through donating money, labour, or expertise to Chinese wartime efforts. Yet during the Occupation, such behaviour would get one killed or suspected of treason; one might find it better to remain discreet and fade into the background, or leave for safer shores. Could one uphold justice and righteousness quietly, subtly, and effectively within such a world of harshness and deprivation?
Issue 22 May 2023
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Issue 10 Apr 2023
Issue 3 Apr 2023
Issue 27 Mar 2023
Issue 20 Mar 2023
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