Ute von Funcke

This piece is part of our Fall/Winter 2020 print issue. Translated from German by the author and Stuart Friebert 

This piece is part of our Fall 2019 print issue. Translated from German by Stuart Friebert 

Translated from the German by Stuart Friebert She climbed into her red canoe without a paddle on a road heavy as lead, without water apples in her pack, absent a future, postcards in gaping shoes, dead holiday greetings yesterday, superseded, freezes, in the faces behind the blinds, the dark’s falling guillotines in the last crack,

Translated from the German by Stuart Friebert Too soon the night’s gobbled up the evening its light smothered wildly propelling winds and dark fingers of clouds to catch the hope of those fleeing on the rotting wood of the footbridge over the gorge