David Biespiel’s Poetry Wire: The Pale of Vermont
But to become a writer I needed at least to learn about my own superstitions. I needed space in the house to sketch with words. I needed to commit heresies. And those acts had to feel pleasurable.
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Next Letter in the Mail: Roe McDermott
Roe McDermott writes from her life, to you in your life, about all the different types of love we find ourselves experiencing: NoOtherOptionlove, MisplacedLoyaltylove, CouldDieForYoulove, LovingWhereYouArelove, ThisCouldBeHome(AtLeastForNow)love, and more. You…
The Rumpus Interview with Terese Svoboda
Poet Terese Svoboda talks about her biography of the socialist-anarchist firebrand and modernist poet Lola Ridge, Anything That Burns You, and remembers a time when the political was printed in newspapers.
Next Letter for Kids: Kenneth Oppel
Our next Letter for Kids has a full-color map of the childhood neighborhood of Kenneth Oppel! To find out what’s at each secret, fun and awesome part of this map (check…
Reckoning with the Bros: Trump, Bly, and Swimming in the Sea of Grief
There are dark forces roiling beneath the surface of American life.
The Rumpus Interview with Cole Swensen
Cole Swensen, author of fifteen collections of poetry, discusses her work, walking, and her recent travels.
The Saturday Rumpus Interview: Darryl Pinckney
If your family or your people are looking over your shoulder, change your seat or push them away. Ask them to trust you with the truth.
Rumpus Original Fiction: Service Area
Even though the summer customers were the worst, always impatient on their way west to the places of her dreams, she envied them.
VISIBLE: Women Writers of Color: Tania James
Tania James discusses her most recent novel, The Tusk That Did the Damage, the challenges of writing an elephant narrator, and the moment when she knew she could be a writer.
David Biespiel’s Poetry Wire: Something’s Happening Out There
The big crowd stretched form the gold-domed State House to Park Street. I had the urgent feeling that we were part of something. That we counted.
(K)ink: Writing While Deviant: Ames Hawkins
Is it really that human capacity is limited? Or are we limited by what it is we believe we are able, and allow ourselves—are willing—to see?
National Poetry Month Day 31: Sandra Simonds
Confessional Poem I fucked your husband and I don’t feel __bad enough for the bourgeoisie. My sexuality roughly translating into teenage vampire, __my blood a pop song programmed to some…