A coal-colored bird, perhaps a blackbird. The frenzied fluttering of his wings contrasts with the amiability of his fellow creatures’ warbling. You’d think he was flailing. This has been going on so long that I want to shout to make him fly away and escape whatever is causing his struggle. Is there . . .
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(Photo: “Because I have company.” Carl Hancock Rux, in an interview about activism, conducted by Carrie Mae Weems) The poet, playwright, director, musician, actor, and activist Carl Hancock Rux grew up in foster care. His older brother Ralph owned a restaurant in Fort Greene, Brooklyn, and Ralph managed to locate Carl, who . . .
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Corrosive timescan always happen. Forever youngold servant of morality.Catches trout with bare hands.A slippery salacious sin.—from “Can Always Happen,” Translated by Aga Gabor Da Silva, Volume 62, Issue 1 (Spring 2021) Tell us about one of the first pieces you translated.It was the poem “Soneto de fidelidade,” written by the famous Brazilian . . .
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(Photo: Kate Winslet as Mare in a scene from Mare of Easttown) I was surprised, and more than a little perplexed, when I realized that Mare of Easttown is a soap opera. I consider myself well-versed in soapy television (I’m currently in the weeds of a dissertation about melodrama), but I had trouble reconciling Mare of . . .
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Corrosive timescan always happen. Forever youngold servant of morality.Catches trout with bare hands.A slippery salacious sin.—from “Can Always Happen,” Translated by Aga Gabor Da Silva, Volume 62, Issue 1 (Spring 2021) Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote.It was a text about loneliness, titled “Street. The Street Emptiness,” sort . . .
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My brother and I sign the hospice paperwork for our father on a Tuesday. On Wednesday, I fly to San Antonio for a conference even though half of the attendees cancel due to growing concerns about something called coronavirus. There are no travel restrictions or warnings in the United States. Public health . . .
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The baby encased in a thin membrane is something like a cross between a basketball and a cantaloupe. It lies at the woman’s feet on the bed. Her skin prickles at the sight of the living being moving inside. It is not trapped in her anymore; it is a separate being, helpless . . .
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When the forest fires in the northwest were no longer annual, monthlong catastrophes but a yearlong inferno, the question of what to do with the refugees pressed more urgently on both officials and those who lived on the ede of the woods. The occasional discovery of a moose in one’s garden had . . .
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O the brews of this season are here!They’re refreshing, both hazy and clear.So pour for your pleasure,And sip at your leisure.Let’s toast to the Summer with beer. Hops 4 Teacher (J. Wakefield Brewing, Miami FL)Hops 4 Teacher, a bright IPA,Is a honey-hued Summer vacay.After COVID sequesterAnd two Zoom semesters,It washes your grading away. . . .
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I gave the devil a massage in broad daylight on hot summer grass. Skin on my palms began to burn and melt. Agony can feel good when it’s wrong. His moaning lulled me, kept me in the dark place. We didn’t dance but I assumed his pleasure formed inside me.—from “What the . . .
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