사람들을 따라갈수록 나는 거짓말이 되어가. || The more I follow people the more I become a lie

By Lim Solah, Oh Eunkyung and Olan Munson
Essays    Reportage    Marginalia    Interviews    Poetry    Fiction    Videos    Everything   
Poetry

น้ำลายเฟ้อเต็มปากสำรากมนต์ / กลิ่นคละคลุ้งฝูงคนนะจังงัง || Spewing out its gibberish chants / Luring people into rhetorical trance

Poetry

It is a school for the children with no tongues who were born to tongueless mothers. The school teaches only one subject: patience. “Patience is the greatest virtue in life,” say the fathers who can speak.

Essays

In a new collection from A World Without Cages, seven writers reflect on building a different future while holding the weight of the past

Essays

In the Texas prison system, my name is Chino. You will not know who I am unless you are immediate family or one of my few friends.

Essays

Imagine the tens of millions of years that American prisons have stolen, woven back into society.

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

When the streets are stained sea blue, they are graven in time

Poetry

api tak sempat bertanya: apakah kata-kata bisa / terbakar? || fire didn’t have the chance to ask: can words / burn down?

Poetry

不要以為 / 八八十月 過了還會回來 / 除非有十一月 || don’t assume that / October ‘88 will ever return / except in November

Poetry

Now sitting behind barbed wire, hugging his knees / looking at the sky, the earth, the clouds / a bird’s wing like a far-fetched dream.

Essays

Two women write about imprisonment, one from the outside and one from the inside.

Fiction

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

Poetry

It’s not the bullet that makes you bolt, / but the very words /
emerging from the muzzle’s restraint / the classroom in disguise

Poetry

Is every english word I pull from my mouth a child screaming / over the soft chants of ma and nanni ma?

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

When the streets are stained sea blue, they are graven in time

Poetry

น้ำลายเฟ้อเต็มปากสำรากมนต์ / กลิ่นคละคลุ้งฝูงคนนะจังงัง || Spewing out its gibberish chants / Luring people into rhetorical trance

Poetry

api tak sempat bertanya: apakah kata-kata bisa / terbakar? || fire didn’t have the chance to ask: can words / burn down?

Poetry

It is a school for the children with no tongues who were born to tongueless mothers. The school teaches only one subject: patience. “Patience is the greatest virtue in life,” say the fathers who can speak.

Poetry

不要以為 / 八八十月 過了還會回來 / 除非有十一月 || don’t assume that / October ‘88 will ever return / except in November

Essays

In a new collection from A World Without Cages, seven writers reflect on building a different future while holding the weight of the past

Poetry

Now sitting behind barbed wire, hugging his knees / looking at the sky, the earth, the clouds / a bird’s wing like a far-fetched dream.

Essays

In the Texas prison system, my name is Chino. You will not know who I am unless you are immediate family or one of my few friends.

Essays

Two women write about imprisonment, one from the outside and one from the inside.

Essays

Imagine the tens of millions of years that American prisons have stolen, woven back into society.

Fiction

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

Poetry

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

Poetry

It’s not the bullet that makes you bolt, / but the very words /
emerging from the muzzle’s restraint / the classroom in disguise

Poetry

Is every english word I pull from my mouth a child screaming / over the soft chants of ma and nanni ma?

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.