When I loved him it felt like light / Coming out of my skin. I don’t mean this /
In a good way.
In the Boston Review, Lisa Olstein provides a lovely prelude to a sampling of devastatingly beautiful poems by Meg Freitag. Olstein writes: “This third place—between (both) real and unreal, given and taken, held and dispersed—is the zone Freitag’s work inhabits, the here that is possible only in, by, and through poems.”
Input your search keywords and press Enter.
The Rumpus needs your help. We need to raise $25,000 $3,100 to fill our funding gap for 2024.
Our home base is Asheville, NC and Hurricane Helene severely impacted our ability to host events, launch new initiatives, and caused other significant financial setbacks this fall.
Can you support us at any level by Dec. 31? Every dollar counts and is a sign that our readers collectively value creative labor and independent publishing.
Once a week, we'll send you a roundup of what's new on the magazine, invites to upcoming events, open calls for submissions, and more!
