Issue 16 · February 2020
Stimulus: Performance of Gustav Mahler’s Adagietto, conducted by Leonard Bernstein.
In the current issue:
Proxima and Silver Swan
Proxima This, precious demon, is how you caught me the sweetest pricks the pinching of strings lamps slanting their i...
Hamartia
These are the things they whispered when they said The epic deeds are gone and left here are The traces of the banque...
Arthur Waley, of an Evening
Of translations of the Tao, it is his I spend time with. He does his patinage on thin ice. For me, it suffices. To th...
The Changing Room
Around the time the changing room was first established, I noticed that a woman I worked with paused in her daily bus...
Collected Works
The boy sits cross-legged on her faded carpet, surrounded by piles of shiny beads, bangle bracelets and jeweled belt ...
Confession (that you’ll never know)
Lauren Anaïs Hussey was born in Jacksonville, Florida in ’90. She earned a BFA from University of North Florid...
Hulx
The tide falls on the sand As rugged seamen wander Onto the shore, holding grimaces Mean-blue eyes scan the land Find...
Irish Scene
A vision of Irish castles, obsolete: Ripples of a jade countryside spotted with jewelry of lakes. On the muted arched...
Just around the corner
During a boiling hot afternoon, somewhere in June 2019, I was back in the city of unexpected beauty. Walking around K...
Let the demons among them
a deer-hide canvas makes its way into my memory and sits there for a while soaking in the afterburn of headlights lik...
A Liar’s Crescendo
You believe she is fragile and transparent. You fear if you took her in your arms she’d crack. Perhaps you’d spil...
Liberty’s Sacrificial Toll
Sacrifice, Sacrifice, Reminisce and recall- Of liberty’s bloody toll Paid for in gloom and doldrums Faceless fa...
On Truth
As with most (interesting) concepts, truth is subjected to variable definitions across disciplines, and often ...
The Red Vineyards of Arles, Vincent van Gogh
The women’s rounded hips brace baskets heavy with grapes, their calloused fingers stained and sweet. Atop a cart, t...
For the sake of some closure
He had not always been thinking about this, but once he started, he was indeed astonished for not doing so earlier. H...
Saturated
Slickness seeps in beneath us Reaching deeper into soil and soul Quenching. Drowning. Dimmed street lamps languish on...
Short Days
they’re cutting down rows of corn at the knees separating pieces of gold from outgrown garments gathering seed ...
Transubstantiation
Without you, I could not have unlearned what night imprints on us. Old musings lumped beneath the eye; sharp teeth...
The Window
I set the table while Ma faffs about the kitchen, mashing potatoes, carving turkey, and stirring the gravy, licking i...
The World Between
Like a moth battering its wings circling a light unable to escape, I lived once where coal dust hung in winter’s lu...
Whereof One Cannot Speak
One I’d just settled myself down with the two things that always are guaranteed to make the evening pass agreeably ...
The Thread
The Thread is LPB’s bi-weekly column, publishing sequences of linked pieces, which explore the various intricacies of human thought.
A Critical Investigation of Why It Feels so Good to Talk to People in the Dark
‘In middle school, the problem of the contiguous self would occasionally keep me up at night. I was me right now, that I was sure of. But once I went to sleep how did I know that this current self would remain intact?’
Past Issues
Prose & Verse
Five Travel Haikus and a Digression on Unfamiliarity
To pick up a book from a tradition I am not familiar with, which I have arrive at through elusive references and recommendations, I need to set aside some reservations and a little self-consciousness.
Whereof One Cannot Speak
One I’d just settled myself down with the two things that always are guaranteed to make the evening pass agreeably – namely, a large gin […]
An experiment in Japanese form
He arrived at noon, trudging up the road with a black duffel bag slung over his shoulder. I never asked him how he got here. The station was much too far away to walk from, and he must have been completely exhausted. Perhaps the army truck dropped him off, or he might have taken a cab. But if that was so, why didn’t they leave him at the door?
Non-fiction
Visual Arts
Respect the Mountain
All those magical places, awaiting to be seen. All those breathtaking moments, awaiting to be lived. Every feeling that makes you want to scream “I’m […]
Blind Navigations – Phantom Islands
The series of mixed-media renderings of St. Brendan’s Island, Thule, Taprobana, Hy-Brasil, Frisland and St. Matheus Island pertains to a subject that entails fact as […]
You float like a feather in a beautiful world
A solo piano adaptation of Creep (Radiohead) on the spur of the moment.
Music
Interviews
The Entomology of Portraits – An Interview with Hernán Cortés Moreno
“I need to be constantly surrounded by people who look at me.” Hernán explains to me once he has done a tour of the house, filled with portraits of friends, family, and some of the eminent figures who have modelled for him.
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.
