Issue 19 · May 2020
Stimulus: Extract from Birth of a Theorem by Cédric Villani.
In the current issue:
May Day & Pears Anyone
May Day And in the time it took you to say my name, I had already strung up the maypole We spent every day [&h...
Hope
Plymouth, UK, December 2019. I had just left the supermarket behind me, and I was walking back home with the week’s...
On The Lost Center
An erudite creative writer in his own right, Zissimos Lorenzatos developed into a scholarly critic and commentator wi...
Back To Square One
The Madness: This work is a representational abstraction of a thought process. The triangle aluminum base is only s...
Theorem
The pursuit of knowledge and excellence, mastery at its highest degrees, makes for an arduous and confounding path, a...
Where Does the Smoke Go & Listening to the Sun
Where Does the Smoke Go where does the smoke of a wildfire go when the wind moves it does it go unwillingly particles...
Virgil’s Tomb
Today I finally visited Virgil’s Tomb. You know how important he is to me. As he was for Boccaccio, Virgil has been...
The Countless Elpenors of History
Elpenor By Takis Sinopoulos, Translated by K.D. Elpenor, how have you come to this land… HOMER Land of death...
The Adoration
While organizing the files of a certain Professor M last week, I came across a dusty piece of parchment, folded elabo...
Astonishment & Dublin Canals
Astonishment To which the acute and judicious proposer answers: “Not. . . . .’ William Molyneux, 1689, I do not t...
The Car in Front of the Sharply Glowing House, South Temple Street
Beautiful light, beautiful stories, are both loaned fire, borrowed things? Here, in this photograph, there is ...
Dreaming in America
Mrs. Blanco has always known she had a smile, sensed it even before she became aware of it. When nothing else would d...
Divan of Remembrance
Faces are appearing again. On the ceiling. During a power outage, as she lies on the bed. Before, it was du...
Five Poems of Love
A Poem of Love The first morning they forded the stream, the second morning they hold hands, and the third morning th...
Tokyo Business
Marcus Weekley lives in Xinzheng, China (just north of VirusCentral), where he teaches English Composition to ...
Before the Morning Begins & The Moth Man
Before the Morning Begins To remind myself who I am every morning, I look in the mirror. This morning I see on...
Question
You could hardly call question a lovely word Although it does make a curious play on the tongue And there’s somethi...
The Goddess
Should I stare? Though my eyes are closed, Her radiance enters, Through the soft air, Her wings cut deep and fierce, ...
Come April & Silk
Come April If not for the hair caught in the corner where the broom cannot reach, I would never know that you were he...
Dust
It engulfs every inch of this world. Every surface, every face, every bit of once-blue sky. It is infinite. Never end...
A Refutation of the Road
I have never, not once in my adult years, been on the road. I have left the house, you understand. I have driven and ...
Song: Calm was the even, and clear was the sky
from An Evening's Love Calm was the even, and clear was the sky, And the new budding flowers did spring, When all alone went Amyntas and I To hear the sweet nightingale sing; I sate, and he laid him down by me; But scarcely his breath he could draw; For when with a...
Special Issue: Staying at Home
In light of the recent global crisis, as well as the lockdown of multiple countries around the world, we have decided to publish a selection of our favourite writers, artists and musicians, hoping that they provide the same solace to you, as they do to us.
The Thread
The Thread is LPB’s bi-weekly column, publishing sequences of linked pieces, which explore the various intricacies of human thought.
This Is What We Are Doing Today
The Noki Trilogy - Part III On a summer day not so long ago, my husband and I stood, our shovels in hand, on the lower edge of the sloping hill leading toward the higher ground of our backyard. We were burying our seventeen-year-old dog there, between the empty...
Past Issues
Prose & Verse
The Seafarers
And then went down to sea
And carved the shore along their breakers
Dry keel on wet sand
And salt spray stinging at their skin
The inevitable shame of not smelling smoke anymore
In the past weeks I have been smelling the promise of blooming flowers. The smell is that of daffodils, the image is that of rosebushes my grandmother planted in front of her veranda and the idea is that of a young woman in a trench coat, leaning on the April wind, laughing. Sweet, rich, easy. So easy.
On The Lost Center
An erudite creative writer in his own right, Zissimos Lorenzatos developed into a scholarly critic and commentator without the benefit of advanced formal studies and […]
Non-fiction
Visual Arts
Hidden in the thread
Thread on fabric [200 x 200cm]
& A conversation on the piece with Vasiliki Poula
Transformations – An experimentation of dissolving the sound and image of waves into lines
An visual amalgam of the sea surge.
Music
Interviews
Refreezing the Arctic – In discussion with Hugh Hunt
In this interview, I speak with Dr Hugh Hunt (Reader in Engineering Dynamics and Vibration at Cambridge University, and Fellow of Trinity College) about the unravelling arctic climate, why he believes the world needs geoengineering (and a scale-back on globalization) and the role of science and individual decision-making in policy.
A quinate of questions for Titos Patrikios
A brief interview with the renowned Greek poet, Titos Patrikios.
About the journal
Our piccioletta barca, or ‘little boat’, aims to embark upon a journey without a destination; a platform from which we can explore interests and passions from a diverse group of disciplines. Ranging from music to art, philosophy and literature, we have attempted to delve into the intricacies of thought, without allowing content or form to constrain us.
