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.
CHARLES YU is the author of three books, including the novel How to
Winner of the EXTINCTION Essay Contest, selected by Lacy M. Johnson
When the desert highway freezes over in the dead of night,you can lay on that cold-soaked mattress in the truckbed,you can watch the bruised purple skin of the sky. Freckled with stars,
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
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
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
as a man gathering flowersbeside the road, his totaledcar smoking in a ditch. dear lord, you can yank my chain as hard as you want,even if it hurts, as long as it
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