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
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Ross Gay Waters the Seed of Joy: A Rumpus Interview
Rightness and goodness and fixedness is not the objective. The objective is to just be curious and wonder about the thing . . .
Sketch Book Reviews: A Line in the World by Dorthe Nors
While this book is about a tiny part of the world, it's universal in its particularity—a must-read for anyone who loves lyric essays.
Scaling The National through Poetics: A dialogue between Rodrigo Toscano and Paisley Rekdal
Transient feelings about feelings of deliverance from (I’d say, national) anxiety. People are micro-dosing on sentimental poetry.
Constraints: A Hometown Ode
. . . the sheets hold a diagonal crease: the memory of the line, an imprint as obvious and useless as the adult our childhood selves once planned to be.
Daydreams of Blackness: Some of Them Will Carry Me by Giada Scodellaro
Scodellaro’s characters have autonomy, know their comforts and desires, and find space and safety in the corners of forgotten places. They grieve on countertops, chewing ice and waiting for the return of a lover who has left for another.
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.
Far from Usual and Better for It: The Layered Poetics of Allison Blevins’s Slowly/Suddenly
Slowly/Suddenly is presented as a diptych in the Table of Contents, perhaps mirroring Blevins’s commitments to other forms of art, but her poems’ progression from Part I to Part II is not a linear narrative, not a Before & After.
Taking to Heart Unbearable Reality: The Rumpus Interview with Jorie Graham
As I say to myself, living under the reality of this new, second cancer, I am rich in minutes. Maybe not in years, or, who knows, even months. But minutes, yes. So, I try not to squander them.