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
Our compasses fail us again and again, leading us along the wrong magnetic fields, yet we sail still through quiet seas under the false mathematics of north. What the frontier means. Not conquering. Not masculinity, not like
A dress on a body with a face that breaks into a smile like mine. My little stick figure boy. My son, hot-headed in the yellow sun. Fum-ing at the tips of your fingers
1 Where else can you watch a bicep shakelike water trembling above a cup’s lip, or help lift weight from a stranger’s chest,watch him rise from a bench, and, with one look,
The warm waters of the Kasilof got me dreaming about salmon or I’m dreaming about salmon in the warm waters of the Kasilof or I’m dreaming I am holding you—holding onto you like
If I were a pet you owned / would you check all the line breaks to find me / once the sun fell into its bleak / trashcan and the sloppy /
For my beloved, / A. You get me through, / B. to get me through. / A. Sahib; A Companion. / B. Safar; A Journey. / There are certain places I can't
Martin Luther King Jr begins milly rocking, / As he downs a bottle of henny with no hands. / Harriet Tubman is bumping and grinding, / As Rihanna blasts on the speakers,
The theme of this special issue was inspired, in part, by a late night Google search a few years ago. Amidst growing conversation in the United States and the world over about
electrocardiogram / don’t look at the line that flattens / without leaping first, still sleeping / ahead of undiscovered country / and the singing to remain here,
They say finch is in the attic running out of songs to sing / tracking circles on sun-dusted floorboards for the
