“The very moment I thought I was lost / My dungeon shook and the chains fell off.”

By Adam Roberts, CM Campbell
Essays    Reportage    Marginalia    Interviews    Poetry    Fiction    Videos    Everything   
Poetry

Question: with sharp enough clippers, can you help / any tree grow small? With sharp enough clippers, can you outlive your / kids?

Poetry

a land mistaken for a people is a people / objectified as spoils of the land

I forced myself to tell her to accept it and think of it as entering into a new theater. Turn it into raw material and endure to write about it.

Poetry

/ Pərˈ(h)aps / preceding us, one ballad to each tongue,
oh, / ‘absəˌlōō(y)tlē /, we refrained from singing

Interviews

The author of trans(re)lating house one talks translation, mapping Tehran, and writing through the aftermath of Iran’s 2009 election.

Essays

Mom and I would share toast, shedding crumbs all over the bed while I asked her other questions, like if it was possible to move things with your eyes, what the word “fuck” meant, if angels existed or if she could tell me the story about when she and Dad got me from Nanchang.

Poetry

What tense do we belong in? I prolong a period / into a comma. I want to revive we’s we’ve archived. / I would let Time drown like a sparrow in a lake

Essays

There’s no shame in loving durian at this New York City haven.

Interviews

“The process of writing a novel can sound cohesive and tidy. At the time it feels much more like walking around in a very dark and very cluttered room, moving slowly, hoping you’ll run into something like an intention instead of a sharp object, or more often, a wall.”

Poetry

After the rain, the June wind / wheedles the airy curtains / and creeps into the ward

Reportage

A peek into the life of NYC’s Iranian Americans amid recent tensions

Poetry

When the children / correctly used their chopsticks to pick up the rolled eggs and / separated the kimchi without splinters, they knew they were / loved by their food. The ashes knew it too.

Poetry

& if the speaker does not know that this language is faulty, then the speaker has been secretly muzzled

Poetry

What I want / is to be unspooled from my navel until / not even my body can keep me. Wildened to morsels / of mortal sound, I crave only the crown of being unseen.

Interviews

‘I was pushing myself to write from places that terrified me.’

Essays

The green fruit would collect on the ground before we threw them to be devoured with the fervor we reserved for galas and granny smiths.

Poetry

What a terrible song, this hoofed wind. / What a terrible song, the begging of my body. / I am the knife. I am the knife. I am the knife.

Essays

“Giving women voice” does not necessarily mean they will be heard or believed. From feminist refusal in Chang-Rae Lee’s A Gesture Life to the quiet resistance of comfort women statues.

These four writers will spend the year crafting reversible poems of migration; bridging immigration, love and violence in fiction; chronicling a survivor’s journey through fragmentation; and telling a family history of sovereignty and colonialism.

Poetry

Question: with sharp enough clippers, can you help / any tree grow small? With sharp enough clippers, can you outlive your / kids?

Poetry

a land mistaken for a people is a people / objectified as spoils of the land

Reportage

A peek into the life of NYC’s Iranian Americans amid recent tensions

I forced myself to tell her to accept it and think of it as entering into a new theater. Turn it into raw material and endure to write about it.

Poetry

When the children / correctly used their chopsticks to pick up the rolled eggs and / separated the kimchi without splinters, they knew they were / loved by their food. The ashes knew it too.

Poetry

/ Pərˈ(h)aps / preceding us, one ballad to each tongue,
oh, / ‘absəˌlōō(y)tlē /, we refrained from singing

Poetry

& if the speaker does not know that this language is faulty, then the speaker has been secretly muzzled

Interviews

The author of trans(re)lating house one talks translation, mapping Tehran, and writing through the aftermath of Iran’s 2009 election.

Poetry

What I want / is to be unspooled from my navel until / not even my body can keep me. Wildened to morsels / of mortal sound, I crave only the crown of being unseen.

Essays

Mom and I would share toast, shedding crumbs all over the bed while I asked her other questions, like if it was possible to move things with your eyes, what the word “fuck” meant, if angels existed or if she could tell me the story about when she and Dad got me from Nanchang.

Interviews

‘I was pushing myself to write from places that terrified me.’

Poetry

What tense do we belong in? I prolong a period / into a comma. I want to revive we’s we’ve archived. / I would let Time drown like a sparrow in a lake

Essays

The green fruit would collect on the ground before we threw them to be devoured with the fervor we reserved for galas and granny smiths.

Essays

There’s no shame in loving durian at this New York City haven.

Poetry

What a terrible song, this hoofed wind. / What a terrible song, the begging of my body. / I am the knife. I am the knife. I am the knife.

Interviews

“The process of writing a novel can sound cohesive and tidy. At the time it feels much more like walking around in a very dark and very cluttered room, moving slowly, hoping you’ll run into something like an intention instead of a sharp object, or more often, a wall.”

Essays

“Giving women voice” does not necessarily mean they will be heard or believed. From feminist refusal in Chang-Rae Lee’s A Gesture Life to the quiet resistance of comfort women statues.

Poetry

After the rain, the June wind / wheedles the airy curtains / and creeps into the ward

These four writers will spend the year crafting reversible poems of migration; bridging immigration, love and violence in fiction; chronicling a survivor’s journey through fragmentation; and telling a family history of sovereignty and colonialism.