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
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
still life with candle in the event that you’ve lost me in the dead / of winter—know i am probably somewhere tryingto stay lost. probably somewhere / in the middle of eating
I am gradually learning to speak a loud my wants into the air hey siri pull up booty pix since anything that can be called to mind can be
On the morning of his death, Dumont is late. We don’t blame him—we like Dumont. There’s no denying he has a sweetness to him, an inviting, innocent smile that’s not worth murdering.
What If Hermaphroditus Let Salmacis Stay Part of Them Because that They had come to think⠀⠀of weight against the body as a kindnessThey were gifted—that undisputed They.⠀⠀Because it was a body scores
In the ten-second video, the praying mantis tries to fit its own head back on, connected by a slimy white stem. In the dorm room, I memorize the laminate earthquake plan that
Humanity (a loose brick) Dislodged a brickfrom the cathedralof Salamanca Humanism —that was dodgy— Took that brick homeput it on the mantlestuffed it in the closet —that was freaky— Then took the
A few weeks before your wife left you wentferal, showed up to the houses of friendsaround dinner time, and I was out front pulling tearthumbto put in a banana tree I’d traded
My reptile mother birthed a reptile daughter – cold-blooded, always chasing sunlight. The weather turns a screw in a fractured femur, and wrenches me rheumatic with the foresight of
Christmas, blue lights refract through the wetwindshield. Us, in the backseat,while my brother drives through the richestneighborhood in Orange County. It’s tradition.From the passenger, my sister says,Who’s the white girl?I don’t know