Latest Writing
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SEPTEMBER INTERVIEW with Julia Thacker
Julia Thacker’s debut collection To Wildness was recently awarded the Anthony Hecht prize by Paul Muldoon. The book makes its way through the wilds of New England, grieving the family born and buried there. To Wildness is enamored with the world of sense, yet lingers close to the realm of the dead. It is elegiac,…
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JUNE INTERVIEW WITH STEVEN ESPADA DAWSON
Late to the Search Party is the debut collection of Steven Espada Dawson, exploring the individual and precise depths papered over by common nouns like ‘grief’ and ‘family’. The elegiac collection delves into Dawson’s love and grief for his dying mother, the decades-long absence of his addict brother, and the absence of a father, with…
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MAY INTERVIEW WITH SOPHIA TERAZAWA
When readers first meet the narrator of Sophia Terazawa’s novel, Tetra Nova, published by Deep Vellum Publishing in March, they have just been trampled by an elephant, returning to consciousness inside what seems to be the body of a panda. Soon after, the narrator tumbles again, this time awakening as Emi, a young girl with…
POETRY
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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—…
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HOLLYWOOD FOREVER CEMETERY by Hannah V Warren
Los Angeles, CA dear hollywood Snapshot Paint me indian Peafowl …
FICTION
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RUN by Katherine Vondy
There is a room at the end of my hallway. Its door is always shut. Shut, but not locked. Inside the room there is a girl. Fifteen, dirty-blond hair, thin. Most of the time she lies on the bed, headphones on, listening to something with lyrics, mouthing vaguely along. She holds a pen against the…
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THE JUNIPER 3 by Trudy Lewis
No one even remembered our dad’s sad song until Tate brought it back on TikTok. The angst and the ecstasy. The emo vocals and the math rock chord progressions. The long and whining bridge between curt, accusatory verses. My mother killed me My father ate me My sister gathered up my bones I’d heard it…
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FALL FOR IT by Claire Hopple
After they escort us out, we are told to wait here. The here being a square of sidewalk. If you could see the two of us on this sidewalk square. Trying to maintain appearances. It’s a delicate operation. A heavy quiet. Some convenience store employees switch off who gets to peer out the window at…
TRANSLATION
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URGENT: NEWS OF THE DEATH OF HIBA ABU NADA by João Melo, trans. G. Holleran
Excuse my urgency, oh right-thinking beingsespecially you translucentand self-referential poets,but one of our sisters,the Palestinian poet Hiba Abu Nada,has just died in Gaza under the shrapnel of a benevolent bomb,sent by another God,different from the one she spoke withevery day. I hesitated to convey this fateful newsso hastily. Perhaps I should waitfor the leaden grey…
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FOUR POEMS by Olivia Elias, trans. Jérémy Victor Robert
Day 21, Words Are Too Poor, October 28, 2023 words are too poor but I have only themmy only wealthempty my hands & so great the sufferings here again I press my arms around my chesthere again I get into this old habit…
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