Essays

I write in the margins of existence. Between shifts. During bus rides. In the quiet hours when my neighbors finally stop screaming or blaring out the trash they call music. My laptop’s held together with duct tape and stubborn hope,…

In Tierney’s shows, hockey runs on two blades: muscle and mouth. You need the athletic strength, speed, and skill — and if an opponent asks you, “Nice onesie, does it come in mens?” You need to be able to shoot…

“Sometimes I think the house should be the one to speak. Let the drywall testify to how long we went without touching. Let the baseboards admit how often I cleaned, hoping order would quiet the ache. Let the doorjamb where…

The particular form of governance being implemented in Gaza has a shape to it. It’s recognizable if you know what to look for. It’s the same shape that appeared in other places, at other times: the architecture of separation, the…

The first stomachaches grip me tightest at night. I watch the sliver under my bedroom door, waiting for Amma’s feet, for her hand on the ache. When I hear a sound that could be the snap of a suitcase or…

To speak of life without death is to describe sound without silence. One shapes the other. They are opposites yet contain complementary rhythms. But in Verdun, these two are entangled in a way that is difficult to separate. The fighting…

We see the world through high resolution filters. Brands become our chaperones to exotic landscapes. Never mind the break in aesthetic—the golden arches pop-up along the interstate while driving through Death Valley like the sudden appearance of a roadside oasis.…