Four Poems by Jamaal May
To the mop, galvanized bucket, / sawdust, and push broom—the felled / tree it was cut from, dulled saw, blistered hand, // I offer my apologies. To the road.… More
PEN Ten with Chris Abani
Writers and storytellers as a whole are curators of our common humanity. This is difficult because we curate not just the good, but also the bad, the totality that… More
Elegy with Crop-Duster
a great big nothingness happening / from field to canal / from canal to the fields beyond // power lines criss-crossing the formlessness of grief . . . The… More
Um Girassol da Cor do Seu Cabelo
Sometimes you have to stare a hundred times before an image sticks, before you understand half of what’s hidden there, still living, behind the snapshot. Uncle Pedro used to… More
A Song Called Shudder
Whose passions but your own startled you / yelling up to a window at night / for a love to come to the glass / & down the stairs?… More
The PEN Ten with Alexander Chee
At some point recently I realized I mostly read about assassins. Assassins and sex work—in particular, I'm fascinated by the new porn narratives, the way porn has moved on… More
Four Poems by Brian Blanchfield
A second bird somewhere he said undid the doom, / but I never saw either. On we walked. Women feel / intimate face to face. Men, shoulder to shoulder,… More
Letter to My Grandnephew
I have an Arabic language CD but no CD player. I wish my sister Alyssa didn’t have cancer. Today when I was working on my math I had trouble… More
Four Poems by Marc Rahe
I am a caretaker; / I worry from afar. // I worry a sore. // Where / do you go, after? // Between privacies is the dark / of… More
The PEN Ten with Karen Emmerich
The writer might have no responsibilities whatsoever, but the translator has only responsibilities—or at least that’s the popular perception. That’s why we’re always failing—according, again, to the popular perception.… More