R.I.P.: Who Died in This House?
Death stigmatizes a property. I also believe that it stigmatizes a person.
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Join NOW!Death stigmatizes a property. I also believe that it stigmatizes a person.
...moreIn Thousand Star Hotel, the bilingual writer’s struggle with expressing himself in English becomes a metaphor for the immigrant’s struggle with navigating the host nation’s hostile-yet-lucrative social terrain.
...moreAllyson McCabe talks with Lois Weaver and Peggy Shaw, two of the founders of the performance group Split Britches, about their lives and work.
...moreI am glad to be free of that tyrant, even if it means I am an end table waddling inch-by-inch down this path on a foolish mission that might prove impossible. I may be an end table, but at least I am free.
...moreI applied for a job at Hooters on a dare a few weeks before my nineteenth birthday. A shoe salesman who worked across from me at the mall told me he’d pay me twenty dollars to apply.
...moreUntil recently, coming out was almost always dangerous—not only to our careers and our relationships but also to our bodies. And so hiding was (and sometimes still is) a necessity.
...moreShe did everything I told her without realizing that it was hurting her and she was me.
...moreI cut off my nose, / her nose collapses. / Chop down my hair & / hers shrieks from the sink. / How many poems do I / have to write ‘til she / gets dead, how many / live-wire syllables?
...moreAn exclusive excerpt from I, Parrot, by Deb Olin Unferth & Elizabeth Haidle, forthcoming from Catapult and Black Balloon on November 1.
...moreMy thoughts hovered above the scene pondering the reasons why and time felt like the waves of a puddle lapping against cracked asphalt.
...moreTori Telfer discusses her first book Lady Killers and the fragile “social saran wrap” that keeps us all from killing each other.
...moreI don’t want to say “calculated conversations.” I don’t want to say “I push my needs away.” I don’t want to admit I can’t control how our interactions go.
...moreThis is what I want him to think of me. The girl poised to surf a wave under the heaviness of the full moon, the ocean around her radiant with light.
...moreMy own cat Moorka, with whom I have long and fruitful but complicated relationship, inspired this comic strip.
...moreA collection of short pieces written by Rumpus readers pertaining to the subject of “Masks and Disguises.”
...moreNothing’s Freudian anymore. A cigar’s a cigar. I want to love something. / I want to love something without having to apologize for it. Please don’t tell.
...moreRuby knew this story and what it said about Mom’s threshold for domestic abuse, perhaps better than anyone else since her driveway was practically adjoined to our own. She called anyway.
...moreHow different the world of the poem was from Saudi culture, which draped me in black and insisted, it often seemed, on One Truth.
...moreSometimes life is so big and so loud and being a human being in the world is so much I feel overwhelmed and need a cocoon.
...moreMy lover became the Pope. It was the twenty-tens and the Catholic Church wanted to rebrand with Newport cigarettes and Hermes chiseled calves.
...moreIn order to stop being scared, we have to see horror for what it is. We have to look behind the mask.
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