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 MoreThe Arrest, in all its surreal narrative trappings, supercars, and Hollywood theatrics, wants to know if words can save us in a dystopia.
Jon Riccio interviews Samuel Rafael Barber about his new book, Thousands of Shredded Scraps of Paper Located Across Five Landfills, That if Pieced Together Form a Message.
Bermuda grass is a weed, in my mind. Something unwanted, with a root system extending 35 feet down into the bowels of the wash that runs through my neighborhood. A friend told
What happens inside this high school classroom is the one thing she promises never to write about.
Walking home around 4PM last fall, I spotted a can in the middle of the sidewalk. Strikingly silver and apparently full, since it wasn’t blown over. No logo, no nutrition facts, no
It’s easier and faster to cross into Mexico on foot. Park on the U.S. side, tuck a passport into a pocket, and walk about a mile down a dusty road, toward the
This get-together is entirely brunette and liquid and will pass right through us like bright lights or cheap liquor.
When I think of what I want your name to be, I think of the undoing of a corset, and I want it to resemble laughter.
And there they went storming up the beaches, afalling from the windows, twisting by the pools, thinking up something cruel, (like) carrying water in slotted spoons...
She extended one arm towards me, then another. I allowed her ten limbs to encircle me, snake around my ribs, under my arms, between my clothed thighs. I got one glimpse of