Rumpus Articles - Page 88 of 3053 - The Rumpus

Rumpus Original Fiction: To Go

Love can feel muddled, vast, diffuse; so little to do with the singular volatility of a firework. I hunger for that kind of crystalline precision, though. That clarity. To scream myself across the sky just once—consuming everything in my wake—and then vanish from view.

Finding Enchantment in the Ordinary: A Conversation with Meng Jin

The reason why so many of these stories have metafictional elements is that I was trying to write in an ethical way while feeling like a professional liar.

Sketch Book Reviews: Embrace Fearlessly the Burning World

EMBRACE FEARLESSLY THE BURNING EARTH . . . is a quintessential Barry Lopez book. It is a clarion call to lovers of the earth, but one full of hope and optimism. This is exactly the kind of book we should all be reading right now.

Treatment as Noun

I haven’t slept in years, but I still can’t seem to wake up.

Head Hair

You look like a [gendered noun here]"

Love in and Loving Lisa Dordal’s Water Lessons

If I didn’t already write poems, Lisa Dordal’s Water Lessons would make me want to write them.

Sustaining our Creative Practice: An Interview with May-lee Chai

Writing is what sustains me and gets me through. It’s the one place where we have control, and even if terrible things happen, it's not someone else making the terrible things happen.

The Microphone

The ableism of schools as workplaces means that all teachers are assumed to be able-bodied until a disabled teacher identifies their need for accommodations. Schools respond; they do not, to my knowledge, anticipate disabled teachers.

The Imprint of a Mind: Jazmina Barrera’s Linea Nigra

This sparse book, “an essay on pregnancy and earthquakes,” deals with the author’s dueling fears of recent and future earthquakes and her impending childbirth.

Rumpus Original Fiction: Only Humans

Hearing old people’s memories is like watching a once-in-three-generations downpour. In the past, they lived in abundance and air conditioning. So many details go over Salwa’s head. She doesn’t know how to transcribe all the words.

A void that migrates to the surface: An Interview with Juliet Patterson

That was my singular personal motivation for doing any of this work: to prevent the threat that this might happen to me. I naïvely believed that my parents would not die by their own hand because they had suffered as children of parents who had already died that way.

ENOUGH: ’Til Death

Rape stories are like weddings—everyone thinks theirs is remarkable, but they are usually disarmingly, eye-glazingly indistinguishable.

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