In the Current Issue
Irún
By D. Nurkse
John H. Johnson and the Black Magazine
By Dick GregoryLet me tell you a story about Jet magazine. In the late 1970s, I went to the African country Uganda, which was falling apart under Idi Amin. His rule was over, and he had left a mess. I wanted to see about helping sick and hungry folks over there. …
The Daily
Arts & Culture
Comfort
By Malcolm LowryYou are not the first man to have the shakes, / the wheels, the horrors, to wear the scarlet / snowshoe, nor yet the invincible harlot
From the Archive, Issue 26
Poetry
Travel Snapshots from an Odyssey
By Daniel MendelsohnDaniel Mendelsohn’s memoir, An Odyssey: A Father, a Son, and an Epic, begins when his eighty-one-year-old father, Jay Mendelsohn, enrolls in Daniel’s undergraduate seminar on the Odyssey. From those risky beginnings, the two embark on an …
The Daily
Arts & Culture
Lot’s Wife
By Anna AkhmatovaThe just man followed then his angel guide / Where he strode on the black highway, hulking and bright; / But a wild grief in his wife’s bosom cried, / Look back, it is not too late for a last sight
From the Archive, Issue 26
Poetry
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Joining the PTA As Writerly Self-Sabotage
By Minna Zallman ProctorIn his masterful book Out of Sheer Rage, Geoff Dyer writes at great length about not being able to write a book about D. H. Lawrence and, in the process, writes a book about D. H. Lawrence and about himself. There’s a bit of a novel thrown in th…
The Daily
Procrastination Confessional
from Mean Free Path
By Ben LernerWhat if I made you hear this as music / But not how you mean that. The slow beam / Opened me up. Walls walked through me / Like resonant waves. I thought that maybe / If you aren't too busy, we could spend our lives / Parting in stations, promising to write
From the Archive, Issue 186
Poetry
Wild Horses
By Rick BassKaren was twenty-six. She had been engaged twice, married once. Her husband had run away with another woman after only six months. It still made her angry when she thought about it, which was not often. The second man she had loved more, the most. He was the one she had been engaged to, but had not married. His name was Henry. He had drowned in the Mississippi the day before they were to be married. They never even found the body. He had a marker in the cemetery, but it was a sham. Al…
From the Archive, Issue 107
Fiction
For Adolf Eichmann
By Primo LeviThe wind runs free across our plains, / The live sea beats forever at our beaches. / Man makes earth fertile, earth gives him flowers and fruits. / He lives in toil and joy, he hopes, fears, begets sweet offspring.
