Blogs
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A Donne for Our Times: on Deed by torrin a. greathouse
Worlds cannot be built from scratch, though, and many of greathouse’s poems find building blocks in existing works. These uses go beyond mere reference and reveal new resonances in even the most familiar sources
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Rumpus Original Fiction: The Red Zone
That night, when I confessed to never having used a tampon before, not having a mom around to explain it, Cami locked us both into a bathroom stall and showed me how.
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Rumpus Original Poetry: Megan Pinto
The Doe Because of the rain, the meadowis empty. How quickly the trainvanishes this view. I press my ear to blank paper, hopingto hear you, waiting for a break in the rain. My mother counseled me to pray MaryMother of…
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The Rumpus Prize in Fiction, First Place: Aimee LaBrie
The first part went as expected: the countback with the anesthesiologist, the prepping of the surgical area, the instruments arranged just so.
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We Are More: Crossing at Allenby
While deception had always been a feature of warfare, the emergence of radio communication, ciphers, and submarines created a new theater for subterfuge in the ‘Great War.’
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Ronny James
“What is that?” your mother said, taking another drag from her cigarette.
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Second of April
On the third fools’ day, Ma was shrinking downward and I was floating upward.
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Rumpus Original Poetry: Brian Gyamfi
Soon after the rain, no sound is heard. / No fluttering of wings. / Just a silent house in a city / and father, haunted with visions / of barely and fire.
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Voices on Addiction: A Small, Dry Place
My earliest impressions of my father are like the negatives in a reel of over-exposed 35mm film, the kind of images that were returned from the photo lab with quality control stickers, marked “light damaged.”
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Dead Man Sink
Bennie knew her mother wasn’t beautiful. She knew this because her mother wouldn’t swim.
