- Reviews
Laima Vincė (ed.). Heritage, Connection, Writing. Conversations with North American Lithuanian Diaspora Writers.
by Žydronė Kolevinskienė
- Poetry
I’d like your body to be a hotel
I could spend a week there
a five-star hotel in the city center
with windows looking out onto three Eiffel towers
I can’t take my eyes off them
- Reflections on Belonging
I was Grandpa's little friend, his little ghost, he would say, and I would spend hours on weekends looking through his scrapbooks filled with old cutouts of Lithuania's vast forests and sand dunes.
- Poetry
negative, you’re always negative
angry grunts from every which way
but dip me in the lord’s developer
and my true form will become apparent
- Interviews
Growing up Lithuanian American, if you had a Lithuanian name, that name always marked you as something other. If you don't have an Anglo-Saxon name, or if there's something about the food you eat... Oh my goodness, as a little girl, I remember my father growing his own apple trees, which was very unusual in the suburbs of New York...
- Reflections on Belonging
A lung specialist, my grandfather spent the bulk of his career treating tuberculosis patients. He’d studied medicine in the interwar capital of Lithuania. A photograph shows him with eight other young men and three women gathered around a table.
by Julija Šukys
- Fiction
Nowadays the only place to be safe is in the woods, to wander around there, to talk with the crows and the sparrows, to commune with the tomtits and the clouds. That’s why I’m drawn to go deeper into the woods – to try and endure these toxic times, to get away as far as possible from the occupation, the third in four years.
- Poetry
Every morning, I tread the elliptical trainer:
a little bit of geometry, a little bit of
the laws of literature, and of course, gravitation, ontology, everything
I see, everything I feel, affects me while I tread the elliptical trainer
- Reviews
Vitalija Maksvytė, ne kraujo, ne pieno (more than blood, more than milk)
By Ugnė Žemaitytė
- Poetry
I would really like to tell you everything
but the cities we had unconditional faith in
are ruled by white noise
