Poetry |
“To the Body” & “Questions of Beauty”
“If you find me / under your shoe / let me be. // My composition / balances / my decay.”
Poetry |
“Geyser,” “Tradition,” “Rattle” & “Moon”
“Even the night air can’t breach the edges of itself. / x words in the English language — there’s no agreement. / I wear them like lipstick. Rouged over for tradition.”
Lyric Prose |
“Lost in a Living Maze,” “Hum of the Season,” “On My Knees: Morning Messengers” & “Endless Other Questions”
“Be present is a predictable instruction. Less often said: how slyly and how fast the present glides out of sight and hides somewhere behind us.”
Poetry |
“At the Golden Cue,” “Silk Bouquet,” “Roback” & “Note on ‘Roback'”
“If my father could have put into practice / his insistence that the angle of incidence / equaled the angle of refraction, / he’d have won more games of pool.”
Poetry |
“another year, another drive home at Christmas,” “standing in the kitchen alone” & “chuseok, 2023”
“i am always wrestling with how to love you better / some balm amongst the bitter / leaning back against the tungsten edge of my heart / that is always swallowing me whole”
Poetry |
“Like Sorrow, Or A Tune,” “True Enough,” “Every Hour on the Hour” & “Things as They Are”
“A novel should feel like you’re in good hands. / Maybe church was once this way —? / I still go, sometimes, I’ve got history; / affection for the memory is just my style.”
Literature in Translation |
from Sakura: “I Dare You””
“I guess I’ll start with the ending. My brother and I didn’t manage to find flowers for our new baby sister that day. And we rode in a patrol car for the first time.”
Interview |
A Dialogue with Tatiana Țîbuleac on The Summer My Mother Had Green Eyes
“Maybe it was easier for me to say some things by hiding behind a voice of the opposite sex? At the book launch, when I saw my mother in the room. I couldn’t read the passages where Aleksy hates his mother in front of her.”
Literature in Translation |
“Regarding Lot,” “The Last Supper” & “Simon the Cyrenian”
“Wine is on the menu, / and some of us plan to order // beer, a salad of legumes, / roast meat and fruit —// mandarins, sufficiently sweet — / to make us utterly aware // of the dispiriting fact / that the world and the invincible years // will surely separate us …”
Poetry |
“Post-Pandemic Professional Development Pantoum”
“We make our hands talk like puppets with funny voices / while Leadership predicts the future of the college ten years from now. / The Speech Professor whispers that management prefers to be called Leadership.”
Fiction |
“Scavengers”
“It looked like the discarded contents of a suitcase from twenty yards. Cloth and leather. But then Francis smelled it — sweet and rancid. Sulfur and ammonia.”
Poetry |
“The Gospel of Gold”
“’Gold is a treasure, and he who possesses it does all / he wishes to in this world,’ writes Christopher Columbus, / ‘and succeeds in helping souls into paradise.'”
Lyric Prose |
“Little Bells” & “Land of Joy”
“When I entered the church, there was music playing. / Shoulder to shoulder, silent women, / from nearby Reserves, had roused hope / to fill plastic bags with worn children’s clothing.”
Essay |
“Uplokkid”
“Like medieval mystics in their anchorages, my mind was on the long-term rewards of short-term sacrifices. I found myself embracing solitude for a higher purpose: not holiness, but haleness, wholeness.”