After Jennifer S. Cheng 1: the sea captured in a glass 2: a homophone for having enough for leftovers, a synonym for abundance 3: the fish, who have already forgotten you. It’s not personal 4: where memory fails, there’s still imagining 5: you. Not as an ocean but outside 6: glass and/or acrylic
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The Arrest, in all its surreal narrative trappings, supercars, and Hollywood theatrics, wants to know if words can save us in a dystopia.
Winner of the EXTINCTION Essay Contest, selected by Lacy M. Johnson
CHARLES YU is the author of three books, including the novel How to
You never realize how little you know about death until someone dies and you’re left picking up the ashes. I mean that literally, even though it sounds like a great metaphor. It’s
Gemma gets what she wants. All of the girls learn this, one way or another. When Violet has the nerve to take the last sparkling water, Gemma empties five cans of Diet
After “Good Bones” by Maggie Smith Life is short, and I cannot keep thisfrom my children. Life ends with one breath,and my children, though young, know too muchof endings. I have no
The other day, I read an article that reminded me of what happened with David. I was on the bus, skimming my news app, and then I realised how similar the story
Low Tide at the Double Bluff Off-Leash Area / General Anesthesia Unexpectedly, a bit of tissue passes Lynne Ellis writes in pen. Their words appear in North American Review, Poetry Northwest, The Seventh
Ode to Good-Bye The moon was whole but thought itself
Rescue cans stick in the sand like safety orange graves. They lean towards the sea, mercury-still and prickedwith bright-capped swimmers. I’m insubstantial in the heat, a voice that sweats. I can almost hear the
today i look the half-pigin its eyes enteringthe cooler it stares from the icy lower shelf& asks what i am grateful for fragile things end up in pieces back here& pieces
High Notes are scarce in “Mooo!” but whatever,Lover and I interpose wobbly E5s, bouncingour sorry titties on his porch. Utter chaos. It rained so long we’d forgottenbare, sun-smooched bellies, cara caraoranges rung
Here is what happened: On the eighth of August in the year 2010, a nineteen-year-old college student flips her car on the stretch of road that the church ladies always said would