GRETA LEIGAITĖ
Greta Leigaitė is a student of Lithuanian philology. In her free time, she enjoys doing crafts like knitting and crocheting. She also volunteers at a children’s camp. Her poetry is about everyday life, and she likes to hide behind the mask of ordinary objects. She uses it to express experiences that feel meaningful to her.
Your Hold Will Soon Expire
they take me from the library
again and again
they can’t return me
when will you have it? Angry patrons
keep asking
showing their library cards
but I’m still gone
they haven’t returned me yet
and when they do
someone will grab me
that very second
before I’m even shelved
each month
I lay on a different table
with a different bookmark
I’m marked up, rubbed out
late fees piling up
but they don‘t care
we put off dissecting you
we need to rate you
on a five-star goodreads scale
they’re impatient
for their turn
to place me on their lap
to casually pull me out on the trolleybus
where everyone stares at my cover
and I no longer remember
on which of my pages
it says
what I am about
Sensitivity
on my mucous membrane, an ulcer
it hurts to touch
but my tongue finds it
and quickly pulls back
but a minute later I search again
I’m checking
whether I’ve forgotten
where it hurts
.exe
if I were a computer virus,
I’d install myself onto your coffee machine circuit board
and every morning I’d swim to you with the milk foam.
if I were a computer virus,
I’d spread across public transport ticket validators
and watch you get in and out.
I’d be that voice in your earphones
that says you’ve been connected successfully,
I’d tell you every day
that you’ve successfully ejected the flash drive
and can safely remove it from the device.
I’d sleep in your hard drive
and it wouldn’t be hard for me at all,
I’d write your e-signature
over and over as if it were mine too.
I’d delete the emails you never opened
and congratulate the friends you’ve forgotten,
I’d watch you through the webcam, since you haven’t covered it
with that strip of black tape yet.
anyway, I hope you’re okay,
but if I were a computer virus,
I’d want your antivirus system to go down,
at least for a day,
I’d want you to fall ill with me
and then no one could ever delete us.
PIJUS OPERA
Pijus Opera is famous for his rap and is gaining fame for his poems, and he hopes to become famous for being a sauna master, skateboarder, hiker, and more. Unfortunately, after holding the microphone for the first time at the age of six, he was stuck with it. This is why he now spends most of his time performing and creating with jazz musicians, embracing both sonic and lyrical improvisation. His poems can be found in cultural publications, and with those same jazz musicians, he organizes performative readings. He’s also studying Lithuanian philology.
*
I always feared
what would happen mid-flight
if I forgot to switch my phone to airplane mode
I truly believed
that the aircraft would shake violently and explode
because of the electromagnetic waves on my phone
but as I grew older
grew wiser, more clever, more brilliant
I realized my fear was stupid so I left it off
and nothing happened
nothing weird or unusual
except for a message from an unknown number:
“Foolish human, get back down on the ground”
*
I adore my trash –
the leftover fish bones
in my leather jacket I rediscover the pockets
and, without sorting, I put in them:
peels and pits and gnawed bits
candy wrappers sugar packets
sucked-dry and spit out sunflower seeds
a foil from chocolate and chewed-up gum
clippings of nails and fallen strands of hair
toothpicks and floss
business cards and used coupons
snotty tissues doctors prescriptions
jingling change and torn-up letters
bottle caps and corks
and leftover fish bones
the jacket gets heavier and wears out
I don’t even remember where I bought it
oh well – I go on, my pockets full
and I adore my trash
*
the sailboats packed up all their wind
like fans
the drunks have been sobering up
for three days now
the petals are falling onto the ferries,
no room
they leave bruises on the deck
and bloom
It’s quiet and Judas’s not moving,
he’s hurt
the route sends the train into the storm
headfirst
the clock peels the pomegranate
and ticks
the pilot can’t see the
Twin Peaks
the aircraft’s fuel tank is empty
after flights
Christ has risen, a road –
and I run.
EGLĖ ELENA MURAUSKAITĖ
Eglė Murauskaitė is a Lithuanian text artist – art writer, poet, translator, and 2025 STAGES playwright co-resident at the National Drama Theater. Her works interweave the themes of the queer body, nature, and the sacred, drawing on indigenous poetry of the various nations she had lived with as well as the intuitive movement and sound practices she leads. With a background in international security and fourteen years as a military consultant, Murauskaitė explores creative writing as a way of giving an equivalent voice to the shared underlying experiences of inhabiting the self, de-othering, and integrating increasingly fractured surroundings.
Dis-comforter
the sunrise chorus
I’m still around
this branch this field this sky
still occupied
the daily
what is your emergency
a hawk a feline a stray poet
the dis-ease chases me
away from the solitary branch of dis-comfort
into the Tolstoyan emergency display of individual miseries
with comfort no less unattainable
the growing un-ease of waiting
to be stabbed and undressed
repeatedly professionally of course
did I make the right call in the cost-benefit analysis
a courtyard not even a field between
the casual lingering around for
a scheduled appointment
and the despairing eyes clutching every nurse jacket
in the hallway of insufficiently emergent sighs
seven minutes on foot
between patiently flipping through a queer zine
amongst motherly figures clutching their offspring
in-hand or in-womb
and clutching a sanitised comforter
next to a waxen mother goose on a ventilator
the sunset chorus
I’m still around
these clothes this room this air
what is your emergency
a feline a hawk
still around
these bowels these lungs
the doctor still occupied
No MO
The weeping boys
In men’s clothing
Freezing in the watercolors
In the smoky uniform kitchens
Boys lost before your eyes
Regarding themselves so fearfully
They fail to notice love passing by
Boys beating their wives so gracelessly
Defenseless against bitter words
That fall into their hair, itch under their skin
They pour a glass
Full of “never mind”
Boys crucifying Christ in their canvasses
Hacking the naked unattainable femininity to pieces
Disfiguring
Their invisible faces
Boys clutching a flowerpot
Growing, outgrowing, then withering
Hiding their tears
In the rugged fingers of old men
Boys we made cry
Postcard from Cairo
Tag
The touch could find you at any time
The chase through the labyrinthine streets
Hot blood driving a fifteen-year-old boy forward
Who’s next?
A rotund matron in a black chador
An American model in a t-shirt and black tights
A young woman in jeans clutching her boyfriend’s arm
A lady saddled with shopping bags
Buttocks. Breasts. One or both
Now, you’re tagged
The shame. The helpless anger. The fear
Now they drive you forward
All yours
QUESTIONNAIRE
What prompted you to write your first piece and publish your work for the first time?
Greta: Poems written by other poets about their everyday life experiences. My first publication was a cycle of poems about the matriculation exams. It was reality at that time, and I knew that other students experienced the same thing.
Pijus: It’s difficult to remember what motivated me to create my first lyrics. I wrote them at six years old after all. When I reached the Everest of versifying at eight years old, I received a serious offer at school – to take part in a contest for a first poetry book (I had to write it, bind it, and illustrate it myself). So it was the thrill that pushed me towards this noble craft. The contest came and went, but the writing (perhaps no longer quite as noble) unfortunately didn’t. In my student years, I ended up getting published in cultural magazines – thanks to some poet and writer friends who told me it seemed like I might actually be onto something.
Eglė: Part of it was the sheer amazement that I could – writing still feels like a surprise, with a sudden surge bringing forth words I didn’t know I carried. The other part came from powerful experiences. Their residue has been building up within me over the past years – finding a way to speak about it felt liberating, and hearing that this resonates with someone has been healing.
How much influence do you draw from the Lithuanian literary tradition?
Greta: I draw inspiration in proportion to how well I understand that tradition. The more I learn about Lithuanian literature, the more various authors’ influences I recognize in my own work. On the other hand, I really admire how Lithuanian musicians explore new sounds. For example, the band Superkoloritas once said it well: it’s easy to create music from sadness or other darker emotions, but it’s difficult to write only about positive things. That’s why I try not to follow only the tradition of sharing grievances but to seek out brighter influences too.
Pijus: I’d call myself – alas – a spawn of the Lithuanian literary tradition. I know that many of my peers get hooked on modern poetry, but for me it’s different. And while these days I’m more interested in contemporary literature, when necessary, I gain strength from the past, naturally.
Eglė: Probably not a whole lot. I’m not so naive as to presume uniqueness – I’m more familiar with Western poetry, which I continue to aspire to and be inspired by. Nevertheless, it gives me tremendous pleasure to keep up with contemporary Lithuanian poetry.
Do you find it important to belong to a community of writers?
Greta: Yes, it’s nice being included and noticed. But I’ve seen parts of the Lithuanian writers community that I didn’t like, so I’d love to find my people in this community.
Pijus: I think it’s important (or maybe it’s nice?) when that writers community values your work. Belonging to a community, in my view, doesn’t necessarily mean being someone who writes, so of those two words, the first one matters more to me. Though I certainly wouldn’t mind being socially accepted, either!
Eglė: Indeed, that is something I very much long for. Encountering writers whose work resonates deeply is such a gift and finding someone kind enough to take the time to offer feedback is an even rarer one. It’s funny, though, how many of us share the feeling of being outsiders – wherever is the IN, I wonder?
In your opinion, what place does literature hold in today’s culture, which is dominated by imagery and visual media?
Greta: For some people literature is a constant presence, while for others it’s something they return to from time to time, especially when they grow tired of images. It’s a sign that helps people recognize intellectual company in one another.
Pijus: Maybe it’s my own secret fantasy, but literature will always hold a prized place in culture. For a cultured (!) person, literature is like oxygen – so what if it’s from an eBook or just some quote on TikTok? Especially now, after the media boom, it seems that we’re in a kind of compensatory phase where young people are once again drawn to literature.
Eglė: As a lover of slow content, books and poetry are my preferred medium, and I am also partial to the visual arts; I believe that there are – and have always been – enough of us consciously detaching from fast-paced, highly charged media content. Though of course, there’s enough drivel written, and some movies make a profound impression – I simply believe there’s enough good content to choose from for those so inclined.
Name one favorite, currently active foreign author.
Greta: Alice Oseman.
Pijus: A very difficult question. Let’s say Martina Vidaić (she’s more of a poet, but I’m curious to see what else lies ahead on the front of prose).
Eglė: There is truly a plethora of powerful voices I’d gladly recommend, but if I must pick one, today, it’s Andrea Gibson. A rare LGBTQ+ voice, approaching life and its pains with an open heart and a tremendous vulnerability. Unfortunately, they passed away this year.
Do you see yourself with a career in literature in the future? Would it be enough to sustain you financially?
Greta: No, I don’t tie my future to one specific activity, but I know it will be something related to creativity.
Pijus: I live off of music and rap. I hope to live off of it in the future too. Whether rap (rhythm and poetry) is linked to literature or not is up for the reader to decide. In any case, if the Sherpa people allow it, I plan to keep the oxygen flowing in my mask.
Eglė: I should hope to continue as a text artist, across the varying genres of creative writing and art criticism. Thus far, that has seemed to provide enough for bread, and in the absence of butter, there are always the artist’s tears to dip it in.
