I hate AJ, Sam says, he stealsmy blocks and punches me. AJdidn’t go to preschool. Here in the kitchenmy son narrates his day: phonics, Play-Doh,the device he calls sand timer whisking awaychoice time.—from “Bioluminescence,” Volume 64, Issue 2 (Summer 2023) Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote.Fourth grade, a poem called “Breeze.” Everyone around . . .
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July 17, 2023 To the Administrators of the Smithsonian Asian Pacific American Center: We, the editors of the Massachusetts Review, are writing to express our deep disappointment and concern regarding the recent and very unexpected cancellation of this year’s Asian American Literary Festival, just weeks before its opening and after over a year . . .
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Less his offense and more the punishment, how Actaeon was pursuedby his own hounds, devoured by that which he thought he had tamed—is that what I mean when I say I, too, watched hungerconsume me?—from “Actaeon,” Vol. 64, Issue 2 (Summer 2023) Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote.This . . .
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Mirinae Lee’s debut novel, 8 Lives of a Century-Old Trickster, has been published by Harper Collins. Lee’s story “Me, Myself, and Mole” appeared in our Fall 2021 issue. Tupelo Press just released Wind—Mountain—Oak: The Poems of Sappho, a collection of the Greek poet as translated by Dan Beachy-Quick, whose original poetry was published in . . .
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Al had not been blessed with charm. Or pleasing aspect. Or verve. Or intellect, that I could discern, though she must have had some scrap of it to have gained acceptance in the first instance. She was a lumpen thing, all fuzzy hair, pigeon toes, and befuddled grin, her broad back humping . . .
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After I persuademy students there isa name for everything, for days I mull on whatto call the kind of kinddissembling I’ve done.—from “Dustsceawung,” Vol. 64, Issue 2 (Summer 2023) Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote.Once I read an interview where Shane McCrae talked about reading some of his . . .
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Right when the dissector picks up the eye, I notice the sunhas already found a place to bruise with light. With slight pressure, she shifts the pink flesh and muscle.That eye can’t see to ask its paths. Or fact its ransom.—from “Blind Spot,” Volume 64, Issue 1 (Spring 2023) Tell us about . . .
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In the same spot where Father died, the dead body of a deer lay prostrate in the rain. Raindrops collected on the ground, flowing like a river. Invisible to the naked eye, electricity trickled into the moist soil as if through the veins of leaves, electrons packed closely together. Micro-organisms gnawed away . . .
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The incredible lightness of beering,So refreshing with summertime nearing!O they’ll flow flavorfullyWith their low ABVsWhen the afternoon heatwaves start searing. #1Take an Air Bath when temperatures rise.Finely bubbled, its bite will surpriseYou with tongue-tingling zipTo enliven each sipOf this Session so brightly devised. #2A drinkable language that’s clear-ly straw-colored, delightful Kölsch beerIs so crushable, fruity,and lightly . . .
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For every year you aren’t a tongue away: America clogs. I ice the WhiteZin, choose a filter, call this mood. Not to say I’m a hunterbut I refuse to see the syllableswhich luck your name—from “A Toast to the Narcissist’s Exit,” Volume 64, Issue 2 (Spring 2023) Tell us about one of . . .
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