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Rumpus Articles
From the Archive: Rumpus Original Poetry: Three Poems by Raymond Antrobus
On screen, I’m peering up a faintly lit staircase and all goes grainy.
We Are More: Two Poems by Noor Khashe Brody
Ghazal: A Letter Of eight children, Mamani named you after sunlight. Since…
Making Magic in New York City: A Conversation with Emma Straub
I'm trying to move into my Ina Garten years. Hydrangeas. Cocktails. Let's see if I can fall into that sometime this decade. Want to come?
Just An Ordinary Apocalypse: Sasha Fletcher’s Be Here to Love Me at the End of the World
The radiant engine of this novel is neither plot or character but rather the thick bundle of arcs and associations working in tandem: angels and birds, wolves and castles, unions and debt, seasons and wine and cooking and love.
Reverse gentrification of the imagination: A Conversation with Cleyvis Natera
When I’m reading books that work within fantastic traditions, I find they’re able to hold more truths simultaneously and give me, as a reader, room to contemplate social justice and political issues and come to my own understanding of what’s what.
Rumpus Book Club Excerpt: Morgan Talty’s Night of the Living Rez
An excerpt from Morgan Talty's NIGHT OF THE LIVING REZ out from Tin House in July 2022.
What to Read When You Want to Bridge the Distance (or your friends feel far away)
. . . the sustaining rhythms of call and response, the power of mutual attention and direct address, of slowing down enough to listen, of connection as a means of searching, solace, and subversion.
Enough: Lock Me
ENOUGH is a Rumpus series devoted to creating a dedicated space for essays, poetry, fiction, comics, and artwork by women, trans, and nonbinary people that engage with rape culture, sexual assault, and domestic violence.
Rumpus Original Poetry: Four Poems by Pamilerin Jacob
Unfortunately, I enjoy blasphemy. / My nightmares will kill me before God does. / What is a nightmare but what God does / to the trees, hiding paper in their pith?
Teaching the Ineffable: Learning to Pray by Yahia Lababidi
. . . in the end, the poem is its own witness to something indefinable with which the poet is engaged. Whatever the poet thinks it is, the poem itself is the vehicle, the container, describing itself and gesturing beyond its words.