Latest Writing
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OCTOBER MONTHLY: Interview with Salvatore Pane
We’re excited to share a new series of interviews exploring craft. In these conversations, we’ve asked writers to take us behind the scenes of their finished works, showing us the process behind the poem, the scene, and the story. Last month, we spoke with Jessica E. Johnson, on her memoir Mettlework: A Mining Daughter on…
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SEPTEMBER MONTHLY: Interview with Jessica E. Johnson
We’re excited to share a new series of interviews exploring craft. In these conversations, we’ve asked writers to take us behind the scenes of their finished works, showing us the process behind the poem, the scene, and the story. First is our conversation with Jessica E. Johnson, on her memoir Mettlework: A Mining Daughter on…
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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…
POETRY
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TWO POEMS by Caitlyn Klum
Heaven What I call Sissy Spacek time of day. Like an ink stain looming behind the live oaks. I was draping laundry over the porch railing to dry and pretty much thinking a wild piece of laundry in the sky. What about you? It disappears so quick in this heat or folds over. Otherwise…
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OCTOBER INTERVIEW with EDWARD SALEM
Edward Salem is a poet who hasn’t lost his sense of humor. “Palestinians,” he shares in our interview, “are insanely funny.” It’s this sense of humor that jumps off the page of Salem’s debut poetry collection, Monk Fruit, surprising readers, even as he’s tackling topics like the occupation of Palestine, American imperialism, torture, and genocide.…
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SEPTEMBER INTERVIEW with LIZA HUDOCK
Addiction, death, and loss are everywhere in Liza Hudock’s debut collection, Reveille (released by Flood Editions in August), but they are not its actual subject. Instead, the poems wrestle—as near as it can be stated—with the world the speaker inhabits. Whether she turns her attention to a moth, the comparison between a pumpkin and a…
FICTION
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AXOLOTL BY ANTHONY GOMEZ III
When wildlife conservationists released a dozen axolotls into the waterways in an abandoned town not far from Guadalajara, they were surprised to see the pink salamanders swim within the water for less than a minute. The endangered creatures jumped out of the pool on their own. Eleven of them moved to the side and chose…
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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…
TRANSLATION
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FOUR POEMS by Ryoichi Wago, trans. Judy Halebsky & Ayako Takahashi
Screening Time November 26th, 2011 —exiting the restricted area, a 20 km radius of the power station screening palms screening the back of my hands screening with my hands up screening with my hands down screening over my head screening …
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THREE POEMS by Rumiko Kora, trans. Judy Halebsky & Ayako Takahashi
Alive, the wind lifts seeds and carries them awayspider eggs hatch and depart on the windover years the wind breaks down plants into soilwe are of the wind and all of our sensesthe wind breathing through us Within the Trees, A Universe -Sacred Forest of Kinabatangan, Malaysia…
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SONG FOR AMERICA by Jacques Viau Renaud trans. Ariel Francisco
America, sitting atop the night’s shoulderssinging in the faces of the hungrydeciphering the language of sadnessmeasuring the modulation of hatred in our children’s stomachs.America, they’ve stolen your joydestroying the muscles in your facetied your heart to the vigilwhere thousands of beings wanderinhabited by death,a death we drag since men, from beyond,buried his sword, before your…
From the Archives
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