A short piece by Rolf Yngve (fiction, ’12) appears at The Common, a journal of “fiction, essays, poetry, documentary vignettes, and images that embody particular times and places both real and imagined.”

People would tell us to go see the big tree, and finally we flagged ourselves into one of the cheap cabs that go between Santa Maria del Tule and Oaxaca de Juarez on a set route. It was getting dark early under an overcast sky, the remains from tropical storm Ernesto, who had petered out after making some news in the Yucatan.

We found the big tree, a knob made for the grip of some great giant who could use it to lift the entire town – the entire state – out of the Mexican ground. It seemed to squat between the mayoral offices and the church. All the nearby buildings clung to earth like the homes of dwarves...[Keep Reading]…

Christine Fadden (fiction, ’09): Christine’s story “The Smallest Bones Break” is featured online at Gulf Coast:

Grandmother’s summerhouse is where Uncle lets Cousin fall from a highchair. Niece hears the ensuing chaos from where she is watching TV, on the front porch. The Bionic Woman is trying to convince her Indian student, Paco, that she is not a spirit. Now, thirty years later, Niece is living with Aunt and Uncle while getting her PhD in acoustical engineering at the university they both have retired from, Cousin has just had a baby, and Aunt tells Uncle he will not be trusted alone with new Granddaughter—ever—because of Fall From Highchair ca. 1973. Also, the plastic water bottles he buys because of his need to drink lots of water (because of his organ transplant), and to most conveniently monitor the amount of water he drinks, are polluting the planet “for Granddaughter.”  …[Keep Reading]…

Nathan Poole (fiction, ’11) has been named one of two winners of the 2012 Narrative Prize, a $4,000 annual award for the best short story, novel excerpt, poem, one-act play, graphic story, or work of literary nonfiction published by a new or emerging writer in Narrative magazine.  Nathan won for his short story, “Stretch Out Your Hand.”

I saw it go out from the ends of her hair. So many long strands of light. Milky, drifting upward—each hair casting off something that looked like silk until all the filaments were impossibly thin and lucent and seemed lost where they passed through the lamplight. They rose from Ruth’s head and congregated in the joists of the ceiling. A bright, glowing nest.

“The fever’s broken,” my father said. He lifted my younger sister out of her bed, legs dangling, toes pointed down. Her arms hung unfastened behind his neck, where the fingers curled up in two loose fists. He pressed his cheek against her forehead to feel her temperature again and he held it there for a long moment.

“Momma, it’s broken,” he said, nearly shouting at my mother.

“O Jesus, thank you. Thank you, Jesus,” my mother said, patting the base of her neck with her hand—a little rhythm she makes when grateful. She sat down on the edge of Ruth’s bed and touched the empty indented place on the mattress. She patted it with her palm and smoothed the sheets. “For this,” her hand seemed to say as it formed its particular rhythm, “for the coolness of this place, right here, on this bed. Thank you.”

…[Keep Reading]…

Hannah Fries (poetry, ’10): Hannah’s poem “Epithalamion” recently appeared at Mass Poetry:

Epithalamion

The elm weaves the field’s late light, this hill
hanging from the tree’s roots like the moon
From its shadow and the whole
world beneath suspended.

Roots knead the earth’s thick sorrow.
Still, leaves from this.
From this unshackling, birdsong.

I am a blade of corn where you kneel,
wind and quaking stalk.
The elm’s body a vase of poured sky.

The tree will die.
Someday, the tree will die.

For now, this axis—
what we choose to compass by.

 

Rick Bursky (poetry ’03) recently read his poems “We” and “The Accordion Player’s Window” for the Southern Review.

Click here to listen

Rick is the author of Death Obscura (2010, Sarabande Books).

Shadab Zeest Hashmi (poetry, ’09): Shadab’s poem “Betrayals” recently appeared in the San Diego Free Press.

Betrayals

Who stepped on my wings
my tea-stained
dog-eared wings
when I was climbing up the library ladder?

Who trapped the dove
when it rode the fox?

The fox runs through the forest
like a red bullet
belly full of lies
in fine print  …[Keep Reading]…

Shadab is the author of the poetry collection Baker of Tarifa (2012, Poetic Matrix).

Joshua Billings (fiction, ’09): Joshua recently completed a translation of Alexander Pushkin’s Tales of Belkin for Melville House Books’ “Art of the Novella” series.

Visit mhpbooks.com to read more or to purchase a copy.

Tatjana Soli (fiction, ’06) discusses her second novel and the James Tait Black Prize at The Millions:

My interest in the clash and misunderstandings between cultures definitely comes from where I live, and it’s been a huge influence in both books. I think there is the same concern for how one lives in both books. How does one bear witness during war? How does one overcome tragedy in a very personal, private life? Those were issues that compelled the writing.

It’s hugely disconcerting that you work blinkered as a writer — thinking you are on to fresh material — only to realize after the fact that you’ve returned to the same themes. I tell my students that you cannot control what you write, but only how you write and communicate that vision. The vision is out of your control...[Read More]…

Tatjana is the author of The Forgetting Tree (2012, St. Martin’s Press) and The Lotus Eaters (2010, St. Martin’s).

Joanne Dominique Dwyer (poetry ’09): Joanne recently won the 2011 Jerome J. Shestack Poetry Prize from The American Poetry Review.  The $1,000 prize is awarded annually for the best poems published in APR during the past year.  The announcement was made in the September/October 2012 print issue of the magazine.

Justin Bigos (poetry ’08) recently interviewed fellow alum Matthew Olzmann (poetry, ’09) for The American Literary Review:

I feel like we’re entering an age where, more and more, we as writers are going to be asked to defend what we do.  Literary arts organizations are fighting for their lives.  Magazines are seeing their funding slashed.  Writing programs are being forced to explain why creative writing is important.  What Hough says there is as good of an answer as any as to why this is important.  I’ve read poems that have offered me the chance to live in different centuries, to walk through hell, to see the traffic moving through blood vessels, and to view the world through the eyes of people of different races, orientations, and religions.  Can that save us?  Maybe, or maybe not.  But it helps us to live deeper, more fulfilling lives.  It creates a more understanding planet.  It calls on us—as individuals—to be more empathetic and humane.  And, ultimately, it helps us—as a society—to be more worthy of the “salvation” that we’re seeking...[Keep Reading]…