excuse me this chambray tie / this cummerbund, these plain chops, / these dull lips. I’ve no guilt for gild's sake.

He never finished a performance without making a prediction. His predictions, if right, would immediately boost his prestige and reverence so much so that when he passed his offering bowl around …

blame grows small in the moth’s circling / day to day the slightest tooth loosens / a landscape changes until returning by habit

I am at my threshold. / The dirt of our daughter. / The mole of her squirming body.

my mother leaning in listening / her usual face her yesterday’s face / out cold on the couch

I learned to sleep as light as a new mother, in increments of minutes rather than hours, listening as I dreamed for a rustling of clothing, a knife unsheathed, and then I stopped sleeping altogether.

The job description was accurate: Assistant Needed for Commercial Body Modification Project was what it read, and Sherilyn was excellent at assisting, having done it most of her life.

When I need my mother most I climb inside my mouth turn left at my incisor teeth turn right at the ghosts of both my grandfathers and find her dancing under the …

Was that season artery or vein? when the days stretched like Broadway, & the nights undid our shirts – the temperature so slight you could raise your arms in flight & feel …

St. Christopher strides across the river. Both hands grip a walking staff bracing him against the current, his calf muscles flexing as fish swirl about his legs. He is looking up at the infant Christ …

On the day I was born, the air was a supple stew—heavy with overripe fruit and armpits, ocean salt, and slow-roasted goat meat. Of course, I don’t remember that day, but I was born in the …

Here is something we have learned time and again: you need not love everything. You do not have to devote yourself to what you thought you’d enjoy. You can decide, whenever you like, that what you …

. . . a collection of flash fiction detailing the rich, diverse inner lives of mostly Malay Singaporeans, through which Alfian Sa’at dismantles the monolithic caricature of what a Malay is or ought …

Self-described on Twitter as a “queer mutt poet,” Mann’s poetry tangles with corporate culture, queer identity, and ownership. His new collection, Proprietary (Persea Books, 2017), treads water …

So often Snediker’s poems parse the speaker’s lone-/someness even as they parse syntactic units blown across the page. The space created in each poem is deeply felt, the absence between each word …

$138,000 into the story, there is nowhere else to go. I spent my twenty-seventh year typing letters of application, the nerves in each hand wrecked by this seemingly endless work, my persistence …

156,000 into the story, the room is empty.   The man I have started dating listens to my stories of how the dinners at the American Academy would unfold, the careful arrangement of the linens and …

Co-Written with Lisa Olstein   When considering the resurgence of dense, gratifyingly difficult experimental writing in recent years, the specter of Gertrude Stein (especially Tender Buttons ) looms …

Co-Written with Karla Kelsey Grubby violet dusk.  Everywhere, the tongue-tang of rust…. In a recent collection, Night Vision, Claire Wahmanholm presents us with a speaker who drifts between …

Co-Written with Chris Campanioni   Long before the Internet was re-routed from military servers and mainstreamed, Foucault understood the efficacy of anonymous interactions on the level of …