Constraints: A Hometown Ode
. . . the sheets hold a diagonal crease: the memory of the line, an imprint as obvious and useless as the adult our childhood selves once planned to be.
Recent posts
Rumpus Articles
Daydreams of Blackness: Some of Them Will Carry Me by Giada Scodellaro
Scodellaro’s characters have autonomy, know their comforts and desires, and find space and safety in the corners of forgotten places. They grieve on countertops, chewing ice and waiting for the return of a lover who has left for another.
Rumpus Original Fiction: You Are One of Them
Everyone here is new. Everyone has run away from somewhere.
Rumpus Original Poetry: Three Poems by Rooja Mohassessy
My love, I signed / what papers they put before me. / The next morning a breeze / swept in across the bar. I watched it lean / the white sails toward starboard / and lift your heavy ashes / into the air.
Far from Usual and Better for It: The Layered Poetics of Allison Blevins’s Slowly/Suddenly
Slowly/Suddenly is presented as a diptych in the Table of Contents, perhaps mirroring Blevins’s commitments to other forms of art, but her poems’ progression from Part I to Part II is not a linear narrative, not a Before & After.
Taking to Heart Unbearable Reality: The Rumpus Interview with Jorie Graham
As I say to myself, living under the reality of this new, second cancer, I am rich in minutes. Maybe not in years, or, who knows, even months. But minutes, yes. So, I try not to squander them.
SOMEWHERE OVER THE RAINBOW: A Search for Transcendence & Annihilation in New Zealand’s Hippie Paradise
“I once ate a mushroom in New Zealand,” I tell people, “though I had no idea if it was edible.”
Take a Good Look: Lisa Taddeo’s Ghost Lover
"Crystal" was really her name. She was always as gentle as she could be. I am grateful to her for that.
From the Archive: Rumpus Original Fiction: An Other Man
This is a carousel that never slows to a point where you can board gracefully.
What does it mean to believe in something: A Conversation with Nancy Marie Brown
But this sense of being able to open yourself up to wonder is something you can do at any age. You just have to open yourself to it. Frankly, for me, it's a whole lot easier to do that when you're out in the middle of nowhere, you're cold and you're hungry.
ENOUGH: Raag Marwa
To wake to the sound of Marwa seeping through the bowl of a sarod / That rests over the limbs of a woman in the balcony—or not. / To follow the melody across rooms, beyond the descending sun, /. Into the kitchen—or not. A call and response—or not.