Six Poems by Shadab Zeest Hashimi (poetry, ’09)

A sequence of six poems by Shadab Zeest Hashmi (poetry, ‘ 09) appears in World Literature Today:

 

Qasida of the Bridge of Teacups
The soul cleaves into two somewhere along the birth canal,
didn’t you say, Plato? I send your echo back to Athens
from my rug of locked antlers in Peshawar
where I fill a teacup with the question of half my soul
(as I watercolor a whitewashed village I’ve yet to see). In
the torpor of the mango season, I am closer to the heady basil
that fishermen of the Black Sea put in their boats for luck –
Will I know my soul by the musk of tannin ink, sugarcane

. . . Continue reading this poem, and five others, here.

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“A Love Story” by Samantha Hunt (fiction, ’99)

A story by Samantha Hunt (fiction, 99) appears in The New Yorker:

A LOVE STORY

by Samantha Hunt

 

“A coyote ate a three-year-old not far from here.”

“Yeah?”

 “My uncle told me.”

“Huh.”

“He said, ‘Don’t leave those babies outside again,’ as if I already had.”

“Had you?”

“Come on.” An answer less precise than no.

“Why’s he monitoring coyote activity up here?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“It’s irresistible.”

“Really?”

A wild dog with a tender baby in its jaws disappearing into the redwoods forever. My uncle’s so good at imagining things, he makes them real. “Yeah. It’s just what he does, a habit.” Or a compulsion.

“I don’t get it.”

But I do. Every real thing started life as an idea. I’ve imagined objects and moments into existence. I’ve made humans. I tip taxi-drivers ten, twenty dollars every time they don’t rape me.

*

The last time my husband and I had sex was eight months ago, and it doesn’t count because at the time my boobs were so huge from nursing that their power over him, over all men, really, was supreme. Now, instead of sex with my husband, I spend my nights imagining dangerous scenarios involving our children. It’s less fun.

[. . .  to continue and to hear audio of the story, click here.]

 

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“The Blues In My Heart, The Rhythm In My Soul” by Cammy Thomas (poetry, ’99)

A poem by Cammy Thomas (poetry, ’99) appears in The Missouri Review:

 

The Blues in My Heart, the Rhythm in My Soul

—for SMM

She asked for my Elmore James album—
the only time she asked me for anything
in the eight years she cooked
and cleaned and washed our hair,
picked us up from school
and helped us bathe and choose our clothes.

. . . for the poet’s contextual note, and the rest of the poem, continue reading here.

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“After the Removal of 30 Types of Plants and Animals From The Junior Dictionary” by Rose McLarney (poetry, ’10)

A poem by Rose McLarney (poetry, ’10) appears in Kenyon Review:

 

AFTER THE REMOVAL OF 30 TYPES OF PLANTS AND ANIMALS FROM THE JUNIOR DICTIONARY

Almond no more. Blackberry blanked out. Cheetah cast off.
But if no acorn, because the young will use language for nature less,

by that logic, no arousal, brief surge of blood that cannot continue
but lets lives be conceived. If no bluebell because flowers are fleeting,

 

. . . continue reading here.

. . . read more from Rose McLarney and Kenyon Review by clicking here.

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An Interview with Monica Youn

An interview with Monica Youn appears in DiveDapper:

 

“All our pleasures seem kind of suspect these days”

Monica Youn

Interviewed by Kaveh Akbar

I just read something the other day that said for the past month the record highs across America have been a ratio of 116 record highs for every record low.

Yeah, I’ve been watching the trees bud and the daffodils pop up knowing it’s all going to hard freeze again next week. My upstate district is mostly farm country. Years like this, the farmers take a beating. Not to mention the global ominousness. So, I’ve kind of been side-eying people who keep saying, “Enjoy the gorgeous weather!”

… continue reading here.

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“If, Then” by Kimberly Kruge (poetry, ’15)

A poem by Kimberly Kruge (poetry, ’15) appears in the Spring 2017 issue of Ploughshares:

Read Kimberly’s poem here:  If, Then

Order a copy here.

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“Tell Me a Story About Lions” by Abby Horowitz (fiction, ’15) — Runner Up, The Black Warrior Review’s 2016 Fiction Contest

“Tell Me a Story About Lions,” a story by Abby Horowitz (fiction, ’15) is Runner Up for The Black Warrior Review’s 2016 Fiction Contest.

Congratulations, Abby!

 

Tell Me A Story About Lions

by Abby Horowitz

 

That as my body spilled out of itself, the boy was born, that he should have surfaced from the river of blood that poured out of me. A miracle, Lazar assured me. A miracle, that the boy survived.

 

Lazar slapping the steering wheel in delight as we finally left the hospital. A family of three! he said, Now and forever.

In the back, lying in the footwell beneath the boy’s car seat, was the fourth passenger, seen only to me—her ginger fur lighting up the car’s dark interior, the black tip of her tail pressed against the door handle, already searching for a way we might escape.  . . . continue reading here.

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“Searching for the Duck Hole,” by Emily Sinclair (fiction, ’14)

An essay by Emily Sinclair (fiction, ’14) appears in Colorado Review:

 

SEARCHING FOR THE DUCK HOLE

Emily Sinclair

Contact with My Mother, from Whom I Am Estranged

My mother started calling me about a year and a half ago. She is in her late eighties and suffers from cognitive decline, so she does not remember that we haven’t had a relationship for more than twenty-five years. Despite her memory struggles, she figured out my home number and leaves messages on it. The first one, transcribed to include her pauses, looks like poetry:

The message is for Emily Sinclair (she begins)
Emily
I want you to know
that you are the first person to know (. . . continue reading here.)

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“The Baby,” by David Rutschman (fiction, ’02)

A story by Dave Rustchman (fiction, ’02) appears in Kenyon Review Online:

 

The Baby

David Rutschman

The baby is by itself on a blanket. Expanse of grass, expanse of gray sky. The man flinches, and the flinch becomes a little shiver, a shiver of disgust almost. He stops walking. Baby on a blanket in a tiny park.

The man had been picking his exhausted, miserable way back to the car from the hospital, but now this: the baby turns its head. On the blanket are a few toys.

The man looks behind him on the sidewalk, across the street, but sees no other pedestrians. Cars thrum by along the avenue toward the hospital entrance and the highway on the other side.

. . . continue reading here.

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Somayeh Shams (fiction, ’14) interviews Noah Stetzer (poetry, ’14)

An interview of Noah Stetzer (poetry, ’14) by Somayeh Shams (fiction, ’14) appears in Nimrod International Journal:

Interview with Noah Stetzer, Nimrod Contributor

by Somayeh Shams

Somayeh Shams: Noah, you have recently published a beautiful chapbook entitled Because I Can See Needing A Knife. In each poem you write about living with AIDS, its consequences on the body, and how it changes one’s relationship to the body. The book is also about love and family, which turn out often to be the lifelines of your poems. Tell us a little about the process that shaped this chapbook.

Noah Stetzer: Thank you for such kind praise. This book would not have been possible without the great people of Red Bird Chapbooks, especially Eric Hove and Sarah Hayes. At the time these poems were being drafted I was immersing myself in any information I could find about HIV in general and my diagnosis specifically. I was seeing doctors about every nine weeks and so my own body was very much a front and center topic—one that you can see reflected, I think, in the book.

Continue reading here.

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