Waking from a troubled sleep, I turned / and asked my wife what time it was. / Who are you? she asked. Your husband, / I said. I eat grapefruit, repair the washer. / You’re not my husband, she said. Yes, / I am, I said. If you’re my husband, / then who prepares the coffee? I do, I said, / every morning. And the glass bottles:read more
The sonnet is inexhaustible. Magnetic, mesmerizing, bewitching, nearly every poet is drawn to the form at some point in their career, whether they long to write the perfect sonnet, the Shakespearean, Petrarchan or Spenserian, or they desire to break the form, queer it, manipulate it, celebrate its mutability; they want to discover what magic can happen within those fourteen lines.read more
Quirk is hard to do well. Magic realism and absurdist tropes can (and often do) serve as tools to avoid the exploration necessary to get inside characters’ heads.read more
The narrator of Elizabeth Mikesch’s Niceties is not interested in explaining her life to you.read more
The masses chatter wherever they mass,read more
Andrew Brininstool’s debut short story collection, Crude Sketch Sketches Done in Quick Succession, hurts because it hits home.read more
Carmiel Banasky’s debut novel is itself a decades-long plunge.read more
We were driving home in the Subaru, we were
sitting on the couch with
nothing in our hands and the movie paused.
When I glue the hybrid, its sound makes a memory like bones or like a pyre for all the oceans one can feel.read more
I’m blaspheming traffic.
I’m mincing some celery.
I’m holding your hand while you eat.
Want to Submit Your Work?