On New Year's Eve, a girl counts down to a kiss that won't survive the morning.

In this debut collection of three poems, Floris Kersemakers seeks the turn, the pivot where the word folds back on itself.

In a crowded bistro, an overheard joke unleashes my companion's uncontrollable, volcanic laughter.

A gossip dealer and a "good vibes only" guru meet over drinks, incompatible from the first sip.

A group of friends spiral through Shibuya's night, turning drinking-game defeats into nightclub euphoria.

Who flinches first: the father devouring his son, or the painter witnessing his country's collapse?

What I have is a deciduous spirit. All I can do is wait for spring.