Waypoint Transition
I want to know more of what it is like to feel lost and not always have someone there to tell me how to find my way. Or, to tell me my way.
Recent posts
Rumpus Articles
Rumpus Original Fiction: Wherever, Anyplace
For a while, at least, we were safe. The end is the beginning, the beginning is the end.
National Poetry Month Day 25: Fady Joudah
Celebrate National Poetry Month with new poems daily, featuring a variety of voices and perspectives in contemporary poetry.
Bringing the Exterior into our Private Rooms: A Conversation with Victoria Chang
There’s no reason for cruelty; the joy is in the writing. I always try to remember why I started doing this thing: Because I had to. It’s not a choice for many of us writers to write, but we do have a choice about whether we’re going to be nice or not.
National Poetry Month Day 24: Andrea Rexilius
Celebrate National Poetry Month with new poems daily, featuring a variety of voices and perspectives in contemporary poetry.
National Poetry Month Day 23: Ambalila Hemsell
Celebrate National Poetry Month with new poems daily, featuring a variety of voices and perspectives in contemporary poetry.
What to Read When It’s the End of the World
. . . a list of books that I feel are worth reaching for in times like ours—some because they are apocalyptic and heavy in subject or tone, others because they are satirical, and others because of how they show parts of the world that make it worth staying in or show a world so foreign to ours that it helps medicate against some of the tunnel vision of our times
Sketch book Reviews: Time is a Mother by Ocean Vuong
An illustrated review of TIME IS A MOTHER by Ocean Vuong.
National Poetry Month Day 22: r. erica doyle
Celebrate National Poetry Month with new poems daily, featuring a variety of voices and perspectives in contemporary poetry.
National Poetry Month Day 21: Alexa Patrick
Celebrate National Poetry Month with new poems daily, featuring a variety of voices and perspectives in contemporary poetry.
We Are More: BLESSINGS FOR QUEEN DESIDERIA
I started to feel drowsy from the post-iftar food coma, the still air in the room, and the melancholic rhythm of the preacher’s recitation. I tried reading the Farsi subtitles to stay focused, but my eyes were tearing yawn after yawn.