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
Read More
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
“Where’s the other instructor, the boy?” Renee said. It was day one of Women’s Wellness Camp, which Renee had embarked upon in hopes of having a young
Ping-pong is great foreplay, I tell you one night. You’re already in bed, while I stand over it, brushing my teeth. I say I read it
Winner 2024 EROTIC Contest: Poetry On Miranda’s poem, judge Stephanie Cawley writes: “In the middle of ‘The Monster is God,’ the poet writes, ‘yes — no,’ the dash a stark bridge where
Sunlight illuminated our bare skin, the air briney. The dog whined at the door. Their body lay heavy against mine, every limb slack, our legs splayed
In 6th grade, a small group of boys started carrying around little, red laser beams on keyless keyrings. They were small enough to fit in the palm of the boys’ hands.
A Note on Nakedness: In my writing, bodies bend and fold; hands encircle hips, hold onto sheets; mouths make music or other arrhythmic sounds. Lovers, and those without love, lay and
My knees pop and crackle like a fireplace as I kneel at her feet on the carpeted floor. I flinch—my body suddenly feels too crooked, too misshapen to be here.She smiles like redemption,
Medellín There is no metaphor for the remainsof a bombed car in a basketnor for the Shepard lying beside thema roach writhing between his pawsnor for Rocío kicking hima cigarette between her
I can’t understand why I persist to wander around / the tragic nature of my conception / why I can’t walk away / like one who boxes up the past / turns
On the day I get junk mail addressed to youfor the first time since you moved out, I also find a clump of your hairin one of the cabinets, under the pots
