Still, my journey was rooted in botany

THE BANYAN TREE by Lalita Noronha

Much of what I’ve learned about life comes from plants—the seemingly endless varieties my father planted around our homes in towns along India’s west coast. Each time we moved, my father yanked us from the ground, tap roots and all, and replanted us elsewhere, he in the center, the trunk of a great old banyan […]

I have tenure now, so fuck it.


1. Exposition Graduate school English literature symposium. Presentation on orientalism, as I am in my Edward Said phase (which came after my Plath obsession but before my Frantz Fanon kick). I work in some stuff about the occupation of Palestine, the suppression of its artistic and political voice. Orientalizing is feminizing the other, as a […]


CATERPILLAR by Kerry Graham

The late-morning Nigerian sun sets the sky ablaze, forcing me to squint. I can’t tell for sure which two boys scuffle in the dusty courtyard, but I fear I know the smaller one. Regrettably, in the month I have been volunteering at this primary school, I’ve come to recognize the haphazard swinging of his arm […]



We hit turbulence over the Labrador Sea. At an altitude of 35 thousand feet, it’s minus 70 degrees outside and our ground speed is 461 miles per hour. We’re due to arrive at five forty-five. None of the units agree— we live metric and die English, like the Japanese who marry Buddhist and bury Shinto. […]


FINISH LINE by Simon Perchik

Runners train by it, both my fists and at the finish line snap open the way each new moon still unbeaten uses this flourish to poke inside these stones —you can’t hide much longer and years mean nothing now dropping back from exhaustion dragging the dirt behind —wherever you are I can find you handful […]

what company we have when we feel alone!


        At last he lays his head flat upon the ground, close to my foot, and sets my other foot upon his head, as he had done before; and after this made all the signs to me of subjection, servitude, and submission imaginable, to let me know how he would serve me so long as […]

After all, truth is fiction's strange bedfellow.

3QR: FREE TO PASS by Joanne Cavanaugh Simpson

LIBERO IL PASSO: FREE TO STEP OR PASS Consider, for a moment, the concept of the Three Quarter True Story: No censorship for writers. No betrayal for readers. No locked doors with mixed messages. When teaching fiction and nonfiction to university students, I’ve found that the question invariably comes up: What is True? We discuss […]


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