Latest Writing
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INTERVIEW with Khairani Barokka
FWR: “To enter the indonesian language is a science fictional enterprise,” you write in the first section of amuk. Reading forward, you show readers how Indonesian tenses permit a simultaneity of temporal possibilities not included within the narrower scope of English; traveling through time or existing beyond the limits of time altogether. What does it…
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INTERVIEW with AE HEE LEE
Ae Hee Lee is a Wisconsin-based poet whose debut collection, Asterism (Tupelo Press, 2024), was selected as the winner of the Dorset Prize by John Murillo. In Lee’s poems, heritage and belonging are examined rather than embraced. Visiting her father’s old home in Chungju, Korea, she asks the flowers growing there to “remember [her] from…
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INTERVIEW with ROBIN LAMER RAHIJA
Robin LaMer Rahija‘s first full length collection, Inside Out Egg, was released in April. Ada Limón writes that “each poem contains the whole unbound strangeness of the human experience–the offhand remark, the blur of being in a body– all of this is written with a humility and understated wit that both growls and sings….” We were…
POETRY
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90% DARK by Dina Folgia
The earth did not take me when I was nine, and I hated the earth for it. Each time I came to the place where the lake met the park and pressed my back into the soggy grooves at the boat launch, I flattened and flattened. When I couldn’t sink any lower into the…
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DAY 559 by Kim Jensen
If you hit the snooze you’ll have a little longer to live in the body of a wolf to gnaw at a bone in the woods parading the entrails back to the den you’ll have more time to be a nobody an unwanted wallflower wearing not even half a dress a few more minutes to…
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GHAZAL OF BORROWED GODS: A CENTO* by Laura A. Ring
Her funeral filled the road. O it is the old old myth. Gone by many names. Trust: I am no God. A chapel has fallen into ruins. I believe in the devil. Worse, that there are no gods. Outside, one statue keeps its head. The temple roof. Stand and remember its gods. My dead sisters…
FICTION
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BLOODY AVENUE by Isabella Jetten
I’ve been followed around by a younger version of myself since I was sixteen. She wears a pink cotton dress, white, buckled sandals, and a Ghostface mask she cycles blood through using a piping mechanism in her left hand, making the white face drip red. As we trudge down Inkberry Avenue, I ignore the breath-like…
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WET OR DRY by Naomi Silverman
It’s raining, and I’m in my car because there’s somewhere for me to go. The sound is nice for me, and nice for my car. She purrs, and I purr back to her. It’s funny that I describe us this way—we are going to get my cat. She’ll be my cat now, although she has…
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THE LEAST AMERICAN FACE by M. Y. Li
The event is in thirty minutes. You don’t really know what it is. The leader of your Erasmus group said something in Spanish about a trip to a traditional Moroccan venue. But did he say the place is a restaurant or a themed bar? Your Spanish isn’t great, but it’s good enough to make out…
TRANSLATION
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THE PIER by Judita Vaičiūnaitė trans. Rimas Uzgiris
Your torn white shirt lies drying on the anchor.In the hush of my cheek I feel your gypsy hair, while huskyvoices echo across the water and through night’s rusting gear.Palms timidly touch the still aching…
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TWO POEMS by Tomas Venclova trans. Rimas Uzgiris
Variation on the Theme of Awakening What echoes in the dark? Is it the wind of Junein the gardens by the lake? If so, the two of usare in the summer house up high, still young,having fallen asleep just before dawn. A muffled engine? Then we’re in that dive by the harbor, in a country where we’d…
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TWO POEMS by Stefano d’Arrigo trans. Joe Gross
WHEN MEEK & THUNDEROUS When meek & thunderousspring makes its mooring& the heart wanes in wax,honeycomb homiliesflit from fin to wingof migrant fish & birdswearing whispers of your name;we imagine you, because it’s true,your destination, too, is mystery. OH IN ITALY A MEMORY Oh in Italy a memory of the womenwho turtledove-strut the windowsillssuddenly thresh…
From the Archives
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