The things undid in the land of undone call to us in the flames. -Lee Upton, Undid in the Land of Undone Late morning, on the first of May – when the cherry trees on Petrin Hill first bloom’d,when the statue of Man shed his shackles and was whole again, there proceeded a troupe of …

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There are days when I wake up in a coffin of bookswhose pages are all empty and my pockets are full of blue pens with no ink. On those days, the libricidal fire of Hrabel’s furnacesparks and roars;one wrong step and it will swallow me up. I find myself on the Charles Bridgestaring longingly into …

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