Five minutes later and I was already regretting going with him. I fell behind, uneasy. I hoped he wouldn’t notice, that he’d carry on walking. But he stopped and turned around. It seemed he wouldn’t move an inch until I was right beside him. His smile read catch up, quick. I told . . .
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Because of my poor hearingtwo old friends thinkthey can make mischiefin front of me.—From “I Blacklisted Two Old Friends” by Zuo You, Translated by Yi Zhe, Volume 63, Issue 4 (Winter 2022) Tell us about one of the first pieces you translated.Zuo You has suffered from a hearing impairment at the age . . .
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She says, I care little about what’s said in the short term. She cracks her shoulder blades. She wonders if she waters them, would they grow wings? She says, I care about what happens tomorrow or the next day or the end of next month when the doctor pronounces my heart obsolete.—from . . .
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Our old ones are dying. Their parents restrained every syllable. the children floated away from their homes to boarding schools. graveyards, and war zones. It is my fifth day in the hospital. Outside for the first time. I hold my medicine bag in my pocket, and I think about Granny Marie. A . . .
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“I am a writer,” and I hate this part. I am a writer, so I am grateful for the requisite third-person: she is a writer and she hates writing about herself. This is her name. This is where she lives, and how. Here are a few facts that are true but safe, . . .
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The process of becoming sick may be familiar to you,or it may not. First, I had unexpected pain. This is notto be confused with previous unexpected pains.Actually, the unexpected pains had continued back foras long as I can remember.—from “Untitled (from Ghostdaughter),” Volume 63, Issue 4 (Winter 2022) What writer(s) or works . . .
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Stand on a bridgeThere, in the center, facing north.Feel the whole bridgeCollapse beneath you: Goodbye, bridge.—from “Rondelet for the Terminally Ill,” Volume 63, Issue 4 (Winter 2022) Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote.The first thing I wrote as an adult was a short story I intended to send . . .
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a sloth-slow strength stretches like lines of longitude / sighing through my lingering life and other lives before / oh above and parallel to mine gently curving / a fierce kink in meridians of knowledge / systems fixated on fixes—from “how do we protect the mutant from annihilation by the ‘normal’,” Volume 64, Issue 4 (Winter . . .
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Pebble tossed, ricochets, sinksThe sea mounts, thrashesI shake from my bodyThe wave’s vengeance—from “The Pebble” by Levent Beskardes, Translated by Stephanie Papa, Volume 63, Issue 4 (Winter 2022) Tell us about one of the first pieces you translated.I think the first poems I translated were actually in Portuguese, rather than French. I . . .
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Six months before your trip, you begin the search. Scrolling through headshots, you note several eligible prospects. One after the other, you dial the numner below each photo. The first seven receptionists inform you that, contrary to the green check mark on your insurance’s provider list, the doctor isn’t taking new clients. . . .
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