As a Californian, Daniel Gumbiner has thought a lot about the aftermath of disaster. What happens long after the emergency workers and news cameras have gone home?
Jami Nakamura Lin is a Chicago-based writer whose work has appeared in the New York Times , Electric Literature , and Bat City Review , but you might know Lin from her former Catapult column, “The …
Yet DanceNotes is uninterested in writing that aims to freeze lived experience. The mission statement continues: “If notation is an instrument for comprehension, preservation, and iteration, …
The 1967 song written by the enigmatic David Bowie famously dramatizes a call and response between Ground Control and Major Tom, except that we don’t know whether the call goes through, and we …
Inside his backpack at Yale Law School, as he aimed to become a public defender, 17 years after being imprisoned for a carjacking he committed at age 16, poet Reginald Dwayne Betts kept a sheaf of …
“Why must everything come to an end?” wonders a bit of sentient stomach bacteria in Yuri Herrera’s new story collection, Ten Planets. “Why had it begun to begin with?”
In early April of 2022, in the second month of the Russian invasion of and war on Ukraine, Phoebe Bosché, Editor of Seattle-based Raven Chronicles Press, invited me to interview Christine Lysnewycz …
Blood, unruly emotions, and intense relationships are at the heart of work by both the US author Chloe Caldwell and the Ecuadorian Gabriela Ponce.
In Let the World Have You, Mikko Harvey plays with a kind of surrealism in this collection to confront a quiet grief—it is ambiguous. It is daily.
Reading Tamas Dobozy recently has been like hearing the chime of an antique clock in a crowded internet cafe.
In the realm of literary translation, few names resonate as strongly as Alex Zucker. With his extensive body of work encompassing Czech fiction, plays, subtitles, song lyrics, essays, poems, …
to go is to be gone; one day quick as a ship / wreck dignified by sea, I realize I am incongruent / to the lover that has slept asleep beside me
Do me a favor, brother, / what's all this about / summoning Death / for each / person to bear?
The poor burning garbage, the captain announces. Nothing, apocalyptic.
Two hands pluck me from a river, / and unfold my pages to the sun.
Science wants me / to murder every loaf of bread in cold blood while / the pastries watch, so scared of me, they unbake themselves.
I am your faceless someone bored/ / horny/mobile/available on a Tuesday afternoon/ / your memory taking root inside tighter skin
I am writing myself / into the mother of this poem
Can you see the imaginary houses? The bed post? The night stand? The trail of blood / leading back to you and me?
Jesus Christ let me get a witness / on my grave I don’t have a dollar / I barely even own my name.