Voices on Addiction: A Small, Dry Place
My earliest impressions of my father are like the negatives in a reel of over-exposed 35mm film, the kind of images that were returned from the photo lab with quality control stickers, marked “light damaged.”
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Dead Man Sink
Bennie knew her mother wasn’t beautiful. She knew this because her mother wouldn’t swim.
We Are More: Ghazal of my Childhood
I remember being told Onsi was a poor artist barely able to feed his family, and my mother, an admirer of his art and a lover of nature, bought all his paintings.
Contrast, Rumination, and Metamorphosis: Diannely Antigua’s Good Monster
As in her debut, Antigua heads off any feelings of confessional monotony by mixing her diary poems with an elegant variety of lesser confessional, more expositional poems.
Rumpus Original Fiction: Find Me in the Light
I can never figure out the right rhythm and I’m always off beat—interrupting at the wrong moment, letting the silence hang for far too long.
Rumpus Original Fiction: Casserole
He trusted her. He loved her. He was waiting for her to provide.
Rumpus Original Poetry: Katherine Tunning
Thoughts well up like that sometimes. / Brief pleasure in watching them blossom, / cutting them off. Today is slow. / I expect tomorrow will be also.
Rumpus Original Fiction: The Sun Never Sets on the Sunrise Highway
With so little going on, we get to talking. Talk about the past, chitchat to pass the time.
Funny Women: Advice for Midlife Lady Writers
Do not use a frowny face when forwarding your manuscript to an editor. Do not write “frowny face” either.
Sacred Mire and the Cutting Edge of Anti-: Tawahum Bige’s Cut to Fortress
Bige as an in-your-face activist-poet resists the colonizer through a poetry they themselves appropriate and transform mainly via language play and voice into an indigenous poetry of personal redemption.
Rumpus Original Fiction: Twinsies
Whatever happened to that one secretary from your job? The one who likes talking about murders instead of doing any work? I bet she already knows more about Aida than I do.