“Dudes,” Gwen calls to us from the porch. “Get thee the fuck out here.” Sunil and I set down our beers …
The first time I heard Jennifer Tseng speak was in 2019, at a reading from her novel Mayumi and the Sea of Happiness. The reading was a part of her job application for the open assistant …
but it all turned out to be the Tetris theme and they could remember no other, no Pac-Man, no Galaga, no Ms. Pac-Man (did she have her own? almost certainly not, the rats think), was there a …
I eat off old plates here, my grandparents’ / grandparents’, translucent to age, a blue // light, that, snowlike, settles in the kitchen. I own no others / yet. Over dinner, I dream of …
As always the end begins / with a social media post / by the president of the United States / about the size of our nation’s nuclear button / compared to a foreign / dictator’s. As …
i dove into you eclipse first just like joni / strung out on another man. one man then / another i drifted down the russian river
Don’t ask me how I got the job. / I had no experience. / I was nineteen; / I had given everything up, / my salvation included.
Somehow in every / nationality, His beard / connects.
the poem opens for me no matter. a blood-letting riot / absorb the symptoms, interpret the malady, erupt / into nummular hives & feign resolve. no more breaking /
I was shimmying on stage, apoplectic in the harsh blue neons, when I remembered I have loved you my whole life.
For months, small gold crowns have fallen from the sky.
I’ve never worked at a fish processing plant, but I’ve met a few people who have.
As an undergraduate at NYU, Daniel Lefferts found mythical beings: students at the Stern School of Business. They eschewed the de rigueur American Apparel hoodies and skinny jeans in favor of …
Carolyn Hembree’s For Today is a triumph of Mississippi Delta poetry.
Her body and mine are the same shape. By reason, this means mine can be touched. I still can’t stomach it.
When the water recedes, a flock of / small stones appears along the shore
My mother wrote a poem on her deathbed / after five bleak months of leukemia. / Something in Arabic to the effect of, Why me?
My Jewish wife and I / went into the Old City / through Damascus Gate / to eat sweet orange squares of knafeh.
Isabella Rosselini said she loved her father’s big belly / because it reminded her of how he used to sit in bed / all day writing
Meanwhile, my sister and I / rate our father’s revenge stories by punchline.