this is why we can’t have nice things ||| from Bodega
I am going to build you an island and you are going to love it. I am going to carve your face into a mountain. I am going to buy you a present. It is a cat and you are … Continued
I am going to build you an island and you are going to love it. I am going to carve your face into a mountain. I am going to buy you a present. It is a cat and you are … Continued
(Oxford, OH: Miami University Press, 2011) It seems unlikely that a novella with an opening scene involving anonymous sexual encounters between men would turn out to be a fluid, poetic internal monologue on some of the weightiest universal issues out … Continued
When Celeste came out and stood at the top of the apartment steps, the wind made her step back and catch herself. She tightened her arms close to her body and made a fist with her collar. That’s when Montarbo … Continued
The bad egg smell of it always brought a lot back. Lindsey was young when she started using Clarins self-tanning products, she couldn’t remember how young—her parents were still married; it was the summer of the boat. The boat in … Continued
but I wanted to go skating solo while I stoodlooking in through your foggy windowwhere you weren’t watching television or eatingbut getting a blowjob and tilting your head backas if the sun were rising and you couldn’t waitbut she or … Continued
One road leads to another. (A few, it is true, lead only to the sea, but mostly one road leads to another.) I met the poet H.L. Hix through the poet David Mason. Or, rather, I have never actually met … Continued
The house across the street was dark. It looked as if it had burned down and been re-built from ash and tar and human bones. Bits of wood crumbled off the roof like Play-Doh, and windows were cracked. The grass … Continued
What year, what moment was it, when all the television aerials came down from our roofs? And now, the skyline is getting all junked up with dangerous-looking post-apocalyptic telephone poles that list with hanging wires. You see them a lot … Continued
(Minneapolis, MN: Milkweed Editions, 2014) From “big jellyfish, All grown-assed” to “rain-laden / Lilacs,” Alex Lemon’s newest poetry collection, The Wish Book, is filled with everything. In a way, this reminds me of Dara Wier’s newest collection, You Good Thing, … Continued
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TlDffZ-ry7I?rel=0] *** Andrew Durbin is the author of Mature Themes (Nightboat Books 2014) and several chapbooks. His writing has appeared in BOMB, Boston Review, Mousse, Triple Canopy, and elsewhere. He co-edits Wonder and lives in New York. Andrew Durbin’s … Continued
Situation Analysis The recent congressional hearings on credit card debt in America surely were a wake-up call for us here at Bank of the United States (heretofore referred to as “Large Bank”). We heard from struggling grandmothers who can’t afford … Continued
:neIs there really something?go see. :wo You can die like a poet Head in the oven Metalled bone on the ceramic Body in the atmosphere- People can too fly. :hree Or like a starlet Fireflies drowned in gin and good … Continued
When we married, my husband and I couldn’t have said whether we wanted to have a baby or not. We wanted to be together, wanted to finish school, wanted to travel. A baby? We couldn’t imagine it. We were young, … Continued
(Shelter Island, NY: Black Cat, 2014) Rape culture is a term, somewhat overused lately, that describes the normalization of sexual assault in a society. Break it down, and you have two charged, weighty words that mean vastly different things to … Continued
Mother’s Lap (2003) Lagoon (2003) Fishnets (2003) *** Sarah Faust was born to artist parents in Denver, Colorado. She received her BFA from the University of Kansas in Visual Communication in 1992. Faust holds an MFA in Photography from … Continued
Hsia Yü reads “Now These Objects Will Move By Themselves” Every time you get to thinking this time doesn’t count Every time you come to feel this one now isn’t real The air is shot with the sound … Continued
—after Landis Everson “A poem can often be made much more successful if the poet puts into the poem, freely and unselfconsciously, all the birds he wants. Once the poem is finished, he then simply discards all of them.” … Continued
Translation by Eric Abrahamsen. (San Francisco, CA: Two Lines Press, 2014) I was a taciturn and grubby child, a pint-sized pessimist that preferred the company of animals and solitude to that of my family and friends. If not on horseback, I ran everywhere … Continued
1. A cheap leather coat K’s father lent me when we were visiting and the weather turned cold. It had belonged to his brother, a cop, but had never been worn because the brother, as K’s father explained, died within … Continued
NO. 1 First I was fellating an African despot for his diamonds, next I was paying a hooker to give me back my teeth. You think I’m kidding about the diamonds; I was looking also for some gold. … Continued
1 A city. A city getting closer. A city rising from a jet-way marshland like a heaven of pure hope. We’re low over water and there’s a dock, a breakwater, and, yes, people walking here and there—no, striding— … Continued
People from the halfway house come into the store. One guy in particular. I think his name is Richard. He never buys books. “I came in with this,” he says, raises a paperback like Moses with the commandments. Richard thinks … Continued
Hillary’s hair caught on fire during the Christmas Eve service that year, and we were thankful that, for once, something new happened. In the congregation, Hillary’s father fainted, her mother shouted hysterically and somewhere way in the back, a chair … Continued
75. “We walk through the rusted bracken to the lido, to the place where the Park Woods give way to a cultivated beach. The darkness beneath the trees is a treatment, something a person might seek out to modify other … Continued
(Cambridge, MA: Alice James Books, 2014) “I imagine a star. A clove bullet/ ripping through me.” This is one way to render the feeling—a massive nuclear reaction; an intensity of flavor that parts flesh—of losing yourself in Sally Wen Mao’s … Continued
When I first started Dana Spiotta’s new novel, Stone Arabia, it called to mind Don DeLillo’s Great Jones Street, another exploration of rock and roll—its fascination, its inarticulate articulateness, its enigmatic pull. That’s how I was reading it for the … Continued
Lola Spencer had the sort of breasts that define a woman; they were big and she was small; they were gorgeous perfect things, pink-nippled, shaped like cantaloupes, firm and white. The rest of her seemed to exist to accentuate her … Continued
Excerpt: Judy Meyerson, a family counselor, had run her practice for over twenty-five years out of a converted townhouse on West Seventy-third Street. The place attracted her from the first, perhaps oddly because of the elevator cage that obviously had … Continued
I will behave like a dog. I will do it on the active volcano just like you want. I will wear what you put out on the bed. I will not be a loud drunk any more not spit no … Continued
A twelve-year-old girl, her hair pulled into a messy ponytail, waits for anyone other than me to walk by the glass walls of her hospital isolation room. She half-sits half-lies on a high mechanical bed with hard gray plastic rails; seven days … Continued