prose
Suvi Booth
- Los Angeles
- August 30
In August, the names of the dead linger on the fence next to the COVID safety signs. Standing on the bridge, you gaze through torn sheets that read “Say Their Names.”
Bruce Louis Dodson
- Borlange, Sweden
- August 15
Can I afford to take the risk of stepping out into a toxic atmosphere? Is whisky worth risking my life, and the lives of those I might come in contact with? I decide it is.
Anisha Sridhar
- New Jersey
- August 3
Upon cushioned feet, they navigated the systems they had built. They moved like water through the storm.
Eric Carter
- DMV
- July 27
Sports have always been on the leading edge of forward political thought in American culture. Joe Louis was the one of the first antifa.
Catherine Gans
- New Orleans
- October 14
Free of that lingering itch of/ Having forgotten something/ That feeling which means/ Something is truly gone
Katie Mitchell
- Georgia
- October 7
As a mother, I cannot find the ground in every moment. This space sometimes feels like a tight cage, and sometimes it is nothing but wide open space with no boundaries at all.
poetry
Rodrigo Toscano
- New Orleans
- October 12
I want to agree,/ but ripples over there you can see/ the white caps of a dark, purple wave
John Zedolik
- Pittsburgh
- October 10
heat will come down but cannot erase/ the knee bent heavy on the neck-bone
Nathan Porceng
- Washington
- September 30
I inspect my work closely,/ for it’s mine alone to inspect.
recent prose
recent poetry
- Catherine Gans
- Poetry
- New Orleans
- October 14
Free of that lingering itch of/ Having forgotten something/ That feeling which means/ Something is truly gone
- Rodrigo Toscano
- Poetry
- New Orleans
- October 12
I want to agree,/ but ripples over there you can see/ the white caps of a dark, purple wave
- Ron Riekki
- Poetry
- Los Angeles
- October 10
and he’s smoking/ in his gown/ his face a heat-stroke maroon
- John Zedolik
- Poetry
- Pittsburgh
- October 10
heat will come down but cannot erase/ the knee bent heavy on the neck-bone
- Katie Mitchell
- Uncategorized
- Georgia
- October 7
As a mother, I cannot find the ground in every moment. This space sometimes feels like a tight cage, and sometimes it is nothing but wide open space with no boundaries at all.
- Nathan Porceng
- Poetry
- Washington
- September 30
I inspect my work closely,/ for it’s mine alone to inspect.
- Seema Yasmin
- Poetry
- California
- September 29
God is making babies in your tender lymph nodes giggling when you prod the swollen knots
- Gabriella Miotto
- Poetry
- California
- September 8
It penetrates your ritual afternoon nap/ and you are temporarily healed/ by this dish, with its salt
From the Archives
Some of our best writing from the earliest days of the shutdown.
Daiquiri Jones
- New Orleans
- March 24
You bought two guns/ and left for the north east./ I am calm, you said.
Zachery Quale
- New Orleans
- March 23
"What’s happening is many of these rodents are looking for an alternative food source, and they’re moving from, many times, inside the buildings to out into the streets."
Betsy Housten
- New Orleans
- March 23
This is an easy time to wish you did not work/ with your hands.
Paris Tate
- New Orleans
- March 22
Because we became lost teens of the storm, assigned/ to the refrigerator with garbage bags and bleach/ Amid power outages and school closures/ After Hurricane Katrina, we learned to shrug early/ As the city went through its own awkward stage.
Ida Dunnitt
- New Orleans
- March 16
My best friend seemed to struggle with whether or not to tell me about her post-Katrina experience in our neighborhood. She settled on, “I’m not talking about people breaking in to try to steal stuff.” At that, I took a seat. She continued, “Here, take my hittin’ stick.”
Dolores Park
- New Orleans
- March 14
We’re packing- or, they’re packing- “the apartment” while I write this, one of my lovers (and their other lover too).
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