“He wanted a different life, a new life. Which should have been as easy as buying something. As simple as opening a new account. He’d wanted to make a new name for himself and the new password that would access his secrets would be (‘preferably some combination of letters and digits’)—no, no passwords. And no different names—no name at all.”
—Joshua Cohen, from Four New Messages (Graywolf, 2012)
(from the archives, Seattle, 2014)
Jacket worn and shabby like a pack of wolves.
Face like a marble chip.
Sitting in a ring of his letters in the grove that sighs
of mocking and mistakes.
Yes, the heart is blown like paper through inhospitable passages.
Now sunset steals like a fox across this land
setting the grass on fire in a moment.
The sky is filled with horns and hooves, and underneath
the calèche glides shadowy between my father’s
—Tomas Tranströmer, excerpted from “Gogol”
(from the archives)