Recent posts
Rumpus Articles
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The Blood of My Women
Now that I am older, I realize how much shame has dictated my own life, from as far back as I can remember, permeating through every action I have taken or been encouraged to take, every memory that has persisted…
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National Poetry Month: birdBlack
when the sky rained blood i stood at attention. i looked the horizon in its long goat eye. i said there was a time before the air.
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Redaction Driven by Revelation: A Conversation with Crystal Simone Smith
“As poets there’s the option to reach beyond our internal afflictions and we don’t need to go very far. Historical documents offer us more than what’s rendered. I think of them as a tool to disrupt domination.”
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The Radical Joy of Being (Out) On the Road
Queer joy is something this book gives appropriately vast space to.
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I’m a Freak
It took me too long to take my own suffering seriously. I understood myself to be privileged and felt I had no reason to complain. I was part of a largely white suburban nuclear family (my father is Jewish, of…
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National Poetry Month: Two Poems
The okra, right now, all heart, is putting on its flowers underneath her voice, which, I swear, makes the trees stop growing for however many seconds she decides to talk about how the phone lines used to be connected, and…
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A Conversation between R.F. Kuang and Tochi Onyebuchi
“I’m a very mercenary reader. Everything is homework to me.”
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National Poetry Month: Loud Lord
The future an accordion of paper dolls, countless wraps made with the same variety of deli meats. Meat dolls,paper dolls. Who is the accountant of these meals, these paltry wishes exchanged over hoppy small batch beers secretly owned by global…
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Investigation Moves the Interior Life Forward: A Conversation with Patrick Cottrell
“ I actually had a much different ending when I did the first draft. For this novel, it needed to have a sense of something happening. It couldn’t just fizzle out or neatly resolve everything. I needed something decisive but…
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Apartment by the Sea
She tried to visualize all those photographs from art school that now pop up as Facebook memories. They had been friends for half of their lives now. How could she have forgotten something so obvious?
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National Poetry Month: Two Poems
It really is a lovely and clarifying tradition I participate in, having eyes and skin. It makes green the tree and darkens the walk. I am unruly at thinking, looking down a street or I gasp, seeing a wasp near…
