A laurel. A reed. An echo. I wanted a poem that would turn like that, with snares and cinches, that would elapse very fast. I wanted the poem to drain through your fingers like sand.” ...

Here are stories we fought over, stories we couldn’t shake, stories that have a way of taking things we’re supposed to love—innocence, books, solidarity—and toying with them disconcertingly.” ...

The artist and filmmaker Cauleen Smith was born in 1967 in Riverside, California, and lives and works in Los Angeles. In gouache on black construction paper, this portfolio renders a selection of the ...

the sun was shining on the veranda while tree sap slumbered, iridescent, in the courtyard, a single persimmon stood, while flies buzzed over loquat-colored soil ...

Ymei Subject: ….swiss self-end-of-life… To: Karen Shepard. how much advance notice does one need for a date.. ? are there any particular r ...

“They don’t exist anymore,” Sun Dongming said. “No.” Lin Wang shook his head. “When did they disappear?” “Let me ask.” Lin Wang dug around in his pocket for his phone. Sun Dongming thought he was ...

Giancarlo DiTrapano was a friend, so take all this with a gram of salt. Gian had two arts at which he was preternaturally talented, what we’d’ve called his genius before that word just meant “smart ...

“America is stuck with its self-definition put on paper in 1776, and that was just like putting a burr under the metaphysical saddle of America.” ...