Blogs
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Trinity
We stood there in silence for a while. Small waves of sound lapped at the stone walls and low monuments of the church: car tires, distant sirens, subway rumble.
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National Poetry Month: Ina Cariño
before bed, he saw out of the corner / of his eye the silhouette of his own dead lolo, / waving goodbye.
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National Poetry Month: Lauren Camp
a jeweled delusion that took the whole side / of the house by the basketball hoop safe to say all / my childhood I came in the back door spinning
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National Poetry Month: Maya Marshall
Every house I passed looked like anywhere I’d want to live. I wanted / and wanted: a house, a family, a house, a family,
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National Poetry Month: Steven Leyva
:: one month of gap coverage :: can’t be sick / in August :: can’t be this tired today :: can’t be poor ever ::
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National Poetry Month: Ariana Brown
Go to a llantero Uncle Junior would trust. Never go to the dealership. Never pay full / price for anything. If you do, you should love it.
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National Poetry Month: Steven Espada Dawson
Us, less scared of La Jura, more scared of her— / only one we knew could square up and make even
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National Poetry Month: Sawako Nakayasu
Are they on a mission, do they have a purpose, / are they trying to do anything specific at all? Are they on the edge of a cliff or / are they on stable footing?
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Between Conceptualism and Hyperpop in Michael Chang’s Synthetic Jungle
Here, failure to be “personal” reveals the unconscious biases that structures readers’ expectations of what counts as “personal.”
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National Poetry Month: Eleni Sikelianos
driving cocodrilos and crocodiles to market / found milk instead of miracles

