Ich bin ein Berliner

I have a poem in the new issue of THIS that originated in an assignment to translate a poem from German without knowing German. It was a famous Paul Celan poem, and we were given a vocabulary list with some translated words, and I could recognize nouns as capitalized, etc., but I was basically in the dark.

So I wrote several "translations," put two together, and kept revising till I got this, "After Celan." I love the desolate image the editors have paired with it, the two main buildings like the two sections of the poem, the blue car having something lurking about it, like a predatory animal.

My fumbling with the language reminded me of the story of JFK supposedly accidentally calling himself a jelly donut in a famous speech in Berlin, but it sounds like that incident is mainly misunderstood, too. You can read all about it here, at Wikipedia, of course, which also offers the fine image of a Berliner Pfannkuchen, the pastry you see above.

Speaking of misunderstandings, THIS has a call for submissions for work on the theme of "Misreading."

And, if you are looking to get more involved with an online magazine, they need a Columns Editor and a Fiction Editor, both unpaid positions, as are most literary editor positions.

Overheard in my house last night: "I don't see any donuts." (In a slightly accusatory tone.) There had been a vague promise of a late-night donut run based on early rising for a volleyball-tournament trip to north of Chicago today...  Instead, the volleyball coach husband/father of the household ate the last bagel. J'accuse.