Latest Writing
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FEBRUARY INTERVIEW with ASA DRAKE
Perhaps it’s no surprise that the first of Asa Drake’s two debuts, Maybe the Body from Tin House, is flush with the fruits and flora of a flamboyant garden, given that she lives in rural Florida. Nor perhaps is it a surprise that the book is fecund with cleanly honed commentary of what it’s like to be…
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OCTOBER INTERVIEW with EDWARD SALEM
Edward Salem is a poet who hasn’t lost his sense of humor. “Palestinians,” he shares in our interview, “are insanely funny.” It’s this sense of humor that jumps off the page of Salem’s debut poetry collection, Monk Fruit, surprising readers, even as he’s tackling topics like the occupation of Palestine, American imperialism, torture, and genocide.…
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SEPTEMBER INTERVIEW with LIZA HUDOCK
Addiction, death, and loss are everywhere in Liza Hudock’s debut collection, Reveille (released by Flood Editions in August), but they are not its actual subject. Instead, the poems wrestle—as near as it can be stated—with the world the speaker inhabits. Whether she turns her attention to a moth, the comparison between a pumpkin and a…
POETRY
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BRUSQUE RECITAL by Christopher Brean Murray
A scarab beetle steeps in spruce shade. “Vast and inhospitable” is how his vision was described. The urn was unearthed in pristine condition. “Beware the maelstrom,” she said with a smile. I realized the gorge was behind the house. The seminar was long and exclusively cerebral. The party: brief and mood-altering. Do you remember the…
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SORROW by Megan Pinto
Everything lost is returned again in sorrow.Love lays to rest in a dark glen of sorrow. Handsome men study their faces in glasstemples I built, saying amen to sorrow. My fingertips turn violet under cold water.I read this as omen when I am in sorrow. Tiger moth, peacock & devil’s butterfly stunned behind plastic by children…
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I AM THE GRASS OF THE WIND ALLEY by Sarah Riggs
From The Heart Weighs In, a Revolt I am the grass of the wind alley, the tepid stream of bird song, the glint of reasonable doubt, the threat of the last hour, the smile of the still falcon the quandary of mourned daylit webs. I am sun auburn-flecked shells I am childhood and old age,…
FICTION
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BILLIONAIRE’S YACHT EXPLODES OFF THE COAST OF IBIZA by Shane Kowalski
The first thing he did after the finalization of the divorce was go to McDonald’s. She had banned the family from going to McDonald’s five years ago, when they built the new one on State, replacing the old and venerable State Street Theater. She had tried to stop it from happening. But they bulldozed the…
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QUANTUM ENTANGLEMENT by Linni Kral
The day Dick disappeared, I woke up fuming. We’d had a row—the word we’d agreed to use when it wasn’t quite a fight. We overpronounced it for effect, yawning the vowel like we were English, like cow, like ow. We hadn’t gotten to bed ‘til north of midnight, or rather, we’d gotten in bed, then…
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SPLIT UNIT by Ryan Bender-Murphy
For so long, the first thing I’d see in the morning was Gabby, her head against the pillow, and it was enough to complete the day. I didn’t need to look at anyone else or go anywhere else; I could simply go back to sleep. But whenever I woke and saw her, I thought I…
TRANSLATION
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FOUR POEMS by Marie Lundquist, translated from the Swedish by Malena Mörling
What do we do with what we lack? A cleft palate weakness, a harmony,a sibling with whom to share ourselves. Quick and quarreling the rainfalls on memories no one is polishing. A few remain, hidden as if insecrecy. New names ring over the graves, mute and soft likemoss-mouths. …
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THE HEART OF A SIREN by Margo Rejmer, translated from the Polish by Antonia Lloyd-Jones
From the recent collection The Burden of Skin. The sea was groaning like a wounded beast. Is the sea hungry? Or thirsty? Is it afraid? Dawn was slipping through holes in the thin curtains. Lying in bed, Enriko began to make out the contours of objects. He listened to the sea. It was calling…
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THREE POEMS by Bejan Matur, translated from the Turkish by Nell Wright
No spring The Judas-trees have bloomedwe’re mourning againno springno countryand blood everywhere. When kissing the earth They talked about a cavalry girlwalking. Tenacitycrossing valleys, mountains.Saying as she goes,how much I believedhow bound I was.Foremost when climbingmountains and valleys,kissing the earth with a breathno one knows.As if the mountains were beginning for the first…
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