His job was merely to photograph: to catalogue the state of the problem. Save the radiology for radiologists.
(fiction)
Category: Dis/placement/orientation
I trip on cobblestones sticking out of the earth like busted tombstones.
(nonfiction)
For a few years we took turns breaking each other’s hearts, casting each other away, reeling each other back in.
(nonfiction)
Beneath the tree, grasses of pale yellow and green commingle to create a neon shade reminiscent of Mello Yello, a soda from my childhood….
(nonfiction)
I mentioned the most important aspect once we were out of the taxi and waiting for the electric-blue bus: never fall asleep. The ride’s purpose was not to get comfortable or distracted.
(nonfiction)
“I WANTED TO WATCH HER WITHOUT HER SEEING ME”
“BREAK TIME INTO PIECES”
(poetry)
In a text to a friend, months after the last time I see her I say, “She still has my heart.”
“You’ll want to get that back,” he says.
(nonfiction)
“Corpus Alienum”
“It’s True. I Left a ‘Shithole Country'”
(poetry)
I wonder if we’ve grown increasingly desensitized to the number of severe weather events we face in a destabilizing climate. Even those of us directly affected think of it as an anomaly, unlikely to happen again—at least to us.
(nonfiction)
Everything has its “sleeves,” I think, has its crap that just dangles there and overcomplicates things, even people, even me, especially me, or my mother for god’s sake, or my finances, or my body, good lord, and the same holds true for the city, I think.
(fiction)
The universe is expanding, a voice reported. Bits and particles of it are shooting out from some
ancient central point like sparks from a Roman candle, and some day, when all the expanding
glowing bits of matter in our universe have stretched themselves out tight like a rubber band, instead of it all coming roaring back to the center, as we’d thought, the universe may instead simply continue to expand. So any parting of ways could be permanent.
(fiction)
I might have pounded on the door or tried to break the window or loudly insisted on the key. And I might have awakened an angry, unbalanced and much stronger man.
(nonfiction)
It was a space where his Swahili was adequate—he only needed to know numbers and how to say nashuka hapa or command shika when paying the conductor. He liked the feeling of anonymity yet knowing the system.
(fiction)
“Colorado”
“Arkansas”
(poetry)
Someone at the SPCA created a Facebook page for Mittens in 2018, as a way of discouraging Wellingtonians from dropping him off at the shelter. “Mittens is not lost,” the page says.
(nonfiction)
“Thank god you weren’t injured,” people said after the Flashlight Man, but while I wait to get my cast off, many projects halted by my inability to type, I consider this: Was I injured back then?
(nonfiction)
“I Like to Think That We Were Kind of Pioneers.” An Interview with Cynthia Weiss and Miriam Socoloff
“To actually physically be fixing broken things just felt like this is the only thing to be doing right now. It is our job as Jews to do tikkun olam–to repair the world.”
(interview)
Another Chicago Magazine 