Latest Writing
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AN ENGINE FOR UNDERSTANDING: AN INTERVIEW WITH Willie Lin
Willie Lin’s debut poetry collection, Conversations Among Stones, will be published in November 2023 by BOA Editions. Simone Menard-Irvine interviewed Lin for Four Way Review. FWR: I would like to start out by first asking about what it’s like to be publishing your first full collection of poetry? What was the process of writing and…
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INTERVIEW WITH Ayesha Raees
Ayesha Raees’ fabulist and fable-like chapbook, Coining a Wishing Tower (Platypus Press Broken River Prize winner, 2020, selected by Kaveh Akbar), is composed of 56 prose-like blocks—give or a take a few half-fragments. These prose-poems, which are whimsical, profound, vulnerable, and full of pathos, grief, and transformation, depict complex relationships between parents and child, religion…
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INTERVIEW WITH Sarah Audsley
Sarah Audsley is a Korean American poet from rural Vermont. A graduate of the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College, her debut book of poetry Landlock X (Texas Review Press, 2023) explores the intricacies of being an adoptee not only through the textures of language but also visual arts crafts, such as collage.…
POETRY
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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…
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BONE ATLAS by Allison Zhang
Seventeen pounds— the gospel weight of a skeleton. Mine is lighter, I think. It whistles in the wind. The body, a country I was told not to settle— its borders or cities. I dreamed I was salt, crushed, dissolving in rain. The nurses said hydrate, singing it soft. But thirst is a clever animal—…
FICTION
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MONTHLY: Fiction Editors Emeritae
GIRLS OF LEAST IMPORTANCE by K.K. Fox K.K. Fox lives in Nashville, Tennessee. Her stories have appeared or are forthcoming in Iron Horse, NELLE, Joyland, Kenyon Review Online, and others. She is a fiction editor for Los Angeles Review. THE LUCKY ONES by Hananah Zaheer Hananah Zaheer’s writing has appeared in Virginia Quarterly Review,…
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GIRLS OF LEAST IMPORTANCE by K.K. Fox
It wasn’t like you think. Charlie Todd was one of the most popular candidates going through Rush that year, even with a limp and a useless hand. We tried not to stare, but her left arm was lifeless, paralyzed, and her hand curled at the end like a comma. She hit her head in a…
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THE LUCKY ONES by Hananah Zaheer
Ever since Abba died, a girl has been living in my mouth. Mostly, she sits on my tongue and watches me do my homework or make houses with old cereal boxes. When Amma makes me write receipts for the laundry business she runs out of our living room, the girl helps me count. “I want…
TRANSLATION
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A FLOWER THAT REFUSES TO BE POETRY by Kim Hyesoon trans. Cindy Juyoung Ok
Anything too cold does not become poetry Anything too hot is not poetrySoaking your feet in boiling water does not bring out poetry Lying on the ice with eyes wide open does not bring out poetry That day no one wrote poetryThey just made a call Secretly picked up the receiver Blew and sent off poetry—Did they wear new clothes? —No, just took off their old…
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TWO POEMS by Abdourahman Waberi trans. Nancy Naomi Carlson
Sahel! Sa(y) Hel(lo) Mother earth Earth mother We have fallen to earth The man from Galilee keeps mum A surge in perils, tsunamis The gods are seeing red The Sahel rises in you, in me The Red Sea boils in you, in me Nunavut is melting in you, in me No taller than a pygmy,…
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THREE POEMS by Nadja Küchenmeister trans. Aimee Chor
at the base no one quite knew how late it waswhen it was too late: i came backa breeze took my hand, the courtyard recognized me, as always, without wakingi picked out the old names on the name platesbein, puhahn, henke, brumm, i let them dry no clothespins on the clotheslinewhere there was a puddle,…
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