From the Archives: FUNNY WOMEN #61: My Imaginary Wet Hot American Summer
Shwayder Camp, Idaho Springs, 1997. This summer has been—without rival—the best summer of my life. Life, I am sure, will continue on this trajectory.
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Twenty-five Years Unbound: Reading a Book of AIDS
The range of prepositions used here in writing about how to write AIDS is indicative of the range of questions encompassed by the book, the range of the “brutal presence” of the disease.
From the Archives: Rumpus Original Fiction: The Anniversary
There lay her gift, basking in the sunlight. A gray-green lizard the size of a shoe. It stood so still she thought it was fake.
Voices on Addiction: Anchor Point
At first, sobriety feels at once like a death of a best friend, loss of comfort, and a beloved version of one’s self. On some level, it is exactly these things . . .
Rumpus Original Fiction: Fantasyland
Here is a lesson Portia learned years ago—you can get away with being rude and nasty if there’s a twinkle in your eye.
Rumpus Original Poetry: Two Poems by J Brooke
I drew a house / I drew a house with a tire swing / I drew a house with a tire swing and deep green grass /
I drew a house with a tire swing and deep green grass and a little pond
Confession of Grief: Katie Marya’s Sugar Work
Marya’s work is a slow burn; both sweet and salty, that picks up speed and ferocity as it unfolds.
RUMPUS POETRY BOOK CLUB EXCERPT: Dream in Which You Cuff Me to the Bed by Dr. Taylor Byas
Our August 2023 Rumpus Poetry Book Club selection is Dr. Taylor Byas‘s, I Done Clicked My Heels Three Times, which takes its inspiration and concept from the cult classic film…
Rumpus Original Fiction: Signal and Response
Researchers are investigating twins and siblings close in age for possible telepathic entanglement.
We Are More: Wanting to Want: Romance and Sports Anime
I think I understand the gap between obsession and devotion, then.
Rumpus Original Fiction: Pink and Lilac
My sister chose petal pink and lilac for her wedding. She was a coder. She was going to be the breadwinner.
Rumpus Original Poetry: Two Poems by Christine Kwon
I’m a poet, I say, finally, / throwing up my hands, / but she just sits there with this look.