Gala Mukomolova
When the dog, which is not your dog, runs out of the house, go after her.
When your yearlong lover tells you a year doesn’t mean that much to her, […]
2016
José Olivarez
the belt is an extension of dad and dad is an extension of god. the boy is an extension of dad too. the belt is just one thread tying them together. the boy prays the belt stays wrapped around dad’s waist. the belt does not believe in god, but if the belt did believe in anything, the belt would call it purpose. […]
Keith Leonard
Poems by Keith Leonard and a conversation between Keith and Phillip B. Williams. […]
Joshua Myers
In the bedroom, a mosquito
whining like a clutch,
the one my first girlfriend burnt
out when I tried teaching her
this new motion: lifting […]
When My Brother Was an Aztec by Natalie Diaz
Review by KMA Sullivan
For those of us who live with and love someone with drug addiction or certain forms of mental illness, we know from the opening line of When My Brother Was an Aztec what this journey will be and we want to walk with Diaz as she says out loud some of what has already broken us. […]
Joshua Bennett
Baldwin sang The Fire Next Time
in 1963 & we are living in the wake
of his impossible love. […]
Alexis Almeida
my friend Shamala at the window, the egg-colored wall, Saj in the shower, my mom in the kitchen with the three glass bowls, never used, the shallow sink, the old woman reads the magazine in the museum basement, hands shaking, fingers follow words, my callow sympathy, I am coming to be everything I hate […]
David Thacker
Lean back, and watch the almost father flounder:
he’s become an enormous pair of eyes, isn’t
holding his wife’s hand. Her hands relax across
her chest, bare belly a soft gong. Below her navel, […]
Courage in the Chasm by Aricka Foreman at The Offing
In 2015 the world witnessed many ruptures: the attacks on Paris, countless murders of POC and Trans folks, the hopelessness biting at our heels in the dark with each mistrial, acquittal and lack of arrest. […]
The Book Report at PEN AMERICA: Fatimah Asghar
Growing up, I used to have to wash my hands before touching books. In our house, books were sacred—we were not allowed to leave them on the floor or strewn about. Any book could contain […]