Introducing The Rumpus Original Poetry Anthology
If you came by the Rumpus table at the AWP convention in Chicago last week you might have seen me or my partner/book designer Amy Letter demonstrating this anthology.
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SELF-MADE MAN #3: Stitches
I walked in on Rob (not his real name), an ex-jock and Affleck-like Bostonian during a covert, one-man photo shoot in the men’s room at my new job this summer,…
We Rode into Total Downpour
The poems run between lyric and narrative with many of them having a steam-of-conscious-like feel as the speaker makes leaps in ideas and imagery from line-to-line.
“into a film,” a Rumpus Original Poem by Ryan Eckes
a wonderful thing about philadelphia is / it’s not new york city
FUNNY WOMEN #75: Behind Every Great Man
To the left is a copy of Benjamin Franklin’s daily schedule, as found in a book. Below is what I imagine Mrs. Franklin’s daily schedule looked like.
A Flower Too Often Smelt Will Wilt
This is a hybrid book that chronicles the real journey and imagines the surreal journey of Lewis and Clark, from watching a baseball game with President Jefferson and Ozzie Smith,…
The Rumpus Poetry Book Club Chat with Aase Berg, Johannes Göransson and Garth Graeper
The Rumpus Poetry Book Club chats with Aase Berg and translator Johannes Göransson about the poetry collection Transfer Fat. We are also joined this month by Garth Graeper of Ugly…
Last Day to Get Wild
Today is the very last day to join The Rumpus Book Club if you’re hoping to receive Sugar/Cheryl Strayed’s book, Wild. Make your way over here to subscribe.
The Rumpus Interview with Carl Adamshick
[Adamshick's] disinterest in self-promotion is plain, and the interview should be read with his tone in mind: wary, self-depreciating, somewhat amused.
“The Mathematician,” a Rumpus Original Poem by Carl Adamshick
The Mathematician She’s taken to sleeping late. Only recently have I come to stare on her as phenomenon.
“In the Pink,” a Rumpus Original Poem by Maureen Thorson
In the Pink I walk the beach by the Tickle Inn and I know that breakups suck.
Thumbs In, Fingers Splayed
Throughout the collection, the speaker in these poems is constantly aware of this contradiction, the intersection between life and art, perhaps frighteningly so, seeking solace in “these few things left,”…