memory
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From the Archive: Sunday Rumpus Poetry: Three Poems by Fatimah Asghar
& yes, my family did raise me right. Yes, / they cleaned their bones & cracked them clean / open to suck. Would fight over cartilage & knuckle/Sip the marrow’s nectar from urn. .
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Joe at the Aquarium
I pushed him so he glided through the fish, the eels, the boxed-in worlds of blues.
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From the Outside In: Talking with Ellene Glenn Moore
Ellene Glenn Moore discusses her debut poetry collection, HOW BLOOD WORKS.
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Creating a Fractured Whole: Megan Culhane Galbraith’s The Guild of the Infant Saviour
To have lost, found, and then lost again seems especially wrenching, a kind of unmothering.
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Haunted, Beloved: A Conversation with Jacques Rancourt
Jacques Rancourt discusses his new collection, BROCKEN SPECTRE.
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On Trauma, Memory, and Language: Talking with Azareen Van der Vliet Oloomi
Azareen Van der Vliet Oloomi discusses her new novel, SAVAGE TONGUES.
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Reimagining Place in the Pandemic
This collection suggests again and again that poets and poetry are conjoined with such places—found on a map and indelibly mapped to the psyche.
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Inner Conversations Projected on a Surface: Bruno K. Öijer’s The Trilogy
A family’s grief traps generations in a search for insight.
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We Are More: Shattering the Ethnic Monolith Myth in The Gimmicks
To say the past is in the past ignores the abundant ways it controls their lived experience.
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Malus Domestica
Apples do not grow “true to seed,” meaning that what you put in the ground isn’t always what comes back out of it.
