One day the woman wakes up and she can’t say exactly what it is that’s changed, only that she knows it all has.

By Anna Vangala Jones
Essays    Reportage    Marginalia    Interviews    Poetry    Fiction    Videos    Everything   
Fiction

One day the woman wakes up and she can’t say exactly what it is that’s changed, only that she knows it all has.

Poetry

The sun sieves through the canopy— / rivers are relenting. My soul seats itself // for the first time. Where it is quiet, it becomes cold. / There is nothing I must do but die— // what joy to let go of all things—what ease to give up.

Poetry

To constellate; archipelago. // Portmanteau & neologize. // To fix a golden / foil across the mouth— // a burial mask / to keep the evil out. // To raise walled cities / stone & green with rain.

Marginalia

An introduction to the present-day protests

Fiction

In video games, the fear of the sudden propels you forward. Not so in life.

Fiction

One day the woman wakes up and she can’t say exactly what it is that’s changed, only that she knows it all has.

Marginalia

An introduction to the present-day protests

Poetry

The sun sieves through the canopy— / rivers are relenting. My soul seats itself // for the first time. Where it is quiet, it becomes cold. / There is nothing I must do but die— // what joy to let go of all things—what ease to give up.

Fiction

In video games, the fear of the sudden propels you forward. Not so in life.

Poetry

To constellate; archipelago. // Portmanteau & neologize. // To fix a golden / foil across the mouth— // a burial mask / to keep the evil out. // To raise walled cities / stone & green with rain.