Blogs
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Rabbit & Ox
It was Keefe’s first run since the wildfires, a week after an orange glow of an apocalyptic sky had greeted them one morning. Day 182, though she had stopped marking the calendar in Sharpie at Day 122, too depressed to…
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Rumpus Original Poetry: Varun U. Shetty
At the pet store, I look for a toy that doesn’t resemble an animal
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The Femcel Catalog a.k.a. The Annals of Obsession
When you were younger, you learned how to hold your breath so you could crawl on the pool floor. Down there, the day sounded different, so you swam for as long as possible. The rising hum of water encircled you,…
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Rumpus Original Poetry: Gabriela Mayes
Gabriela Mayes is a Brazilian writer whose work spans poetry, nonfiction, and cultural criticism. Her recent writing appears or is forthcoming in The Westchester Review, Shelf Magazine, and Chiricú Journal. She directs graduate initiatives that bridge the academic and public…
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Rumpus Original Poetry: Annie Kantar
Annie Kantar is the author of Means to Be Lucky (Poets & Traitors Press), and translator of the Book of Job, commissioned by Koren Publishers, and of Leah Goldberg’s collection of poems, With This Night (University of Texas Press), which…
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Rumpus Original Fiction: The Eeling
Most people had stopped working. No point in making money now. Those who continued either genuinely loved what they did, or had ended up at the bottom of the waitlist and had to find ways to get by until their…
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Rumpus Original Poetry: Hana Widerman
Born to a Japanese mother and an American father, Hana Widerman is a poet originally from California. She graduated from Princeton University with a degree in English and Creative Writing and is currently a lecturer at Cornell University, where she…
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Mother Tongue
You used to look in the mirror and your face would disassemble entirely: your eyes turning to twin river stones, your nose a stub of driftwood, the rounds of your cheeks the shells of beetles. Now there’s something more whole…
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Rumpus Original Poetry: Two Poems by Cooper Dart
for samson, his sky the way I’d show up and leave into night and he’d still be out with that orange bikethe carburetor pried open a can of cleaner in the gravel. I told him it was goingto work this time— summer was working,…
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Poems by Shira Erlichman
First Week in Her Bed 1The miracle was that no one was home. I could let the sounds out. The sounds entered through her neck & came out of my mouth. My thighs adagioed. I went 2everywhere she took me. The silence…
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The Rumpus Prize in Fiction, Honorable Mention: Josie Tolin
By now the night has cooled, and the dune grass rustles beneath the mills. The light clicks off on the back porch between Trent’s house and Greta’s.
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An Excerpt from “First Time, Long Time”
He was more handsome in person, somewhere in the shallow end of his sixties, wearing a soft-looking black sweater and smelling of expensive soap. I could picture the place where the soap was purchased: one of those quiet, ritzy stores…