One Onion Layer After Another: A Conversation with Valzhyna Mort
The village where I spent my childhood summers, away from the city and school, is the landscape that has become my tabula rasa, the primary point of any departure.… More
Valzhyna Mort: Three Poems
It’s as if somebody threw at him slices / of skinned grapefruit. / Every time she hits him—I hit her. / Look at this. Look whom you’ve bred. //… More
Farnoosh Fathi: Two Untitled Poems
Brimming over a secret alone, the end / of its thought must be lost in a hum. / Jimmy crack corn and I don’t care— / The waves explode… More
Monster Brought to Its Knees
“The golf fan really has my respect,” Ben said. “They go out there and get sunburned or rained on, they push each other around, they stand until their backs… More
The Book of Daniel
I remember standing on the porch of our house on Weeks Avenue. It was a warm afternoon and I had scraped my knee on the sidewalk. My mother came… More
Bottom of the 33rd
And who is Wade? He is a man who swears that he wanted to be a major league baseball player ever since he was 18 months old; whose father… More
Comes the Silence
The last part of a story is the silence / That comes at the end. / A time to think, to reflect. / The drums are still now. /… More
The Beautiful and the Damned
The arms dealer’s wife joined us soon after we sat down. She too was from the northeast, from a ramshackle border town in Assam where I had last been… More
Versos de amor y locura
Déjame que te cuente las palabras. / Somos los hijos de los rojos versos / que vuelan cuando está la noche encima. / Qué pálidos amantes, pues nos vemos… More
The Spanish Illness
Many had come from the four corners of the globe and had no way to prove the purity of their blood, or their past; in the best of … More