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From the Archive: The Rumpus Inaugural Poems: Eve L. Ewing
Each day from January 7 to January 20, Rumpus Original Poems will feature poetry written in response to the coming presidential inauguration. Today’s poems are from Eve L. Ewing.
Rumpus Original Fiction: White Ash
My wife, Ritu, a receptionist at a motel, works four nights a week. In the morning, I pick her up in our used Honda and drive her home. After she…
Funny Women: Things I Wish I Could Workshop Other Than My Novel
Do I come across as a middle child with first-child energy? Would you recommend treatment for my character, and if so, from a sliding-scale social worker or a psychiatrist? Meditation or medication? Out-patient or in?
RUMPUS POETRY BOOK CLUB EXCERPT by Courtney Faye Taylor
An excerpt from The Rumpus Poetry Book Club's December selection, CONCENTRATE by Courtney Faye Taylor from Graywolf Press
Rumpus Original Fiction: Rapunzel House
“Don’t worry,” he says. “Give it time. It’ll grow on you.”
Voices On Addiction: The Hypnotist
Dad quit smoking via a hypnotist shortly before my sister Margaret was born. When I was eight or nine, he liked telling me the story of the hypnosis, sitting together on the green sofa in the living room, parallelograms of sunlight on the brown carpet.
Rumpus Original Fiction: The Night of in Tangas
The problem for my father was the same. He had no money to buy confetti and to top everything off he now owed the price of two corundas.
Rumpus Original Fiction: You Are One of Them
Everyone here is new. Everyone has run away from somewhere.
Rumpus Original Poetry: Three Poems by Rooja Mohassessy
My love, I signed / what papers they put before me. / The next morning a breeze / swept in across the bar. I watched it lean / the white sails toward starboard / and lift your heavy ashes / into the air.
From the Archive: Rumpus Original Fiction: An Other Man
This is a carousel that never slows to a point where you can board gracefully.
ENOUGH: Raag Marwa
To wake to the sound of Marwa seeping through the bowl of a sarod / That rests over the limbs of a woman in the balcony—or not. / To follow the melody across rooms, beyond the descending sun, /. Into the kitchen—or not. A call and response—or not.