From the Archive: Unbound
It’s always been ground glass, scraping against my insides. I imagine a light held to the place where I open would illuminate a mess of torn flesh, throbbing red-wet.
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ER
7 posts
When the Healing Place Exploded
Clothes, plants, and broken aluminum doors on balconies—all was inside out.
The Rumpus Mini-Interview Project #214: Sarah Kersey
“A poem cannot exist without form or structure, just like the human body can’t operate without a skeleton.”
Voices on Addiction: They Call It Spirits
Why was he so broken? And why did his broken make me feel broken, too?
I Will Not Die for You
Each bug in the water is one less bug on my fruit, I tell myself, ignoring the truth: under the soil, another is born.
Safety Nets: On Seeing Movies with My Children
There’s no blueprint for any of this. If there were, I would have read it by now.
The Saturday Rumpus Essay: On Madness and Mad Men
In my eight years as a Mad Men fan, the series has repeatedly prompted me to reflect on parenting.