In the Current Issue
A Set of Limericks with a Coda For John Ashbery
By Patrick Mackie
Life After Empathy
By Paul YoungquistDriving cross-country some years ago, I pulled off Interstate 76, among the arroyos and tumbleweed at Fort Morgan, Colorado. Philip K. Dick lay buried somewhere in the cemetery there. But where? At the public library, a sweet old lady volunteer fli…
The Daily
On Film
Little Expressionless Animals
By David Foster WallaceIt’s 1976. The sky is low and full of clouds. The grey clouds are bulbous and wrinkled and shiny. The sky looks cerebral. Under the sky is a field, in the wind. A pale highway runs beside the field. Lots of cars go by. One of the cars stops by the side of the highway. Two small children are brought out of the car by a young woman with a loose face. A man at the wheel of the car stares straight ahead. The children are silent and have very white skin. The woman carries a grocery bag full of someth…
From the Archive, Issue 106
Fiction
With a Bang: An Interview with Eleanor Antin
By Erik MorseEleanor Antin began her career as a stage actress and painter-cum-assemblagist in the late 1950s. She was inspired by the techniques of Yiddish theater and Michelangelo Antonioni, as well as those of Marcel Duchamp and Fluxus. Her versatile art …
The Daily
At Work
A Conversation
By Andrei Voznesensky and Allen Ginsberg,These are fragments of a conversation held in New York City on December 28th, 1978. My friend Peter Orlovsky was also in attendance. This dialogue was taped at the Chelsea Hotel, walking 23rd Street to a coffee shop, in a taxi, up 6th Avenue, walking in the village…
From the Archive, Issue 78
Miscellaneous
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Staff Picks: Foxes, Unicorns, and Ghostworms
By The Paris ReviewYrsa Daley-Ward’s new collection, bone, opens with a small explosion, a two-line poem called “Intro”: “I am the tall dark stranger / those warnings prepared you for.” The poems that follow pick up the dual meaning here—of threat and of …
The Daily
This Week’s Reading
The Nineteen-Twenties: An Interior
By Nathan AschThe Café du Dôme de Montparnasse was exactly like that; no American who was trying to be a writer in Paris in the 1920s could fail to recognize the truth of Nathan Asch’s picture. Asch himself belonged to a somewhat later group than mine; he was one of the young men, mostly Midwesterners—though he was an exception, having been born in Poland and educated at Syracuse University—who gathered round that remarkable magazine edited by Ford Madox Ford, the Transatlantic Review. Later he wrote a…
From the Archive, Issue 6
Letters & Essays
The Mexican Girl
By Jack KerouacI had bought my ticket and was waiting for the L.A. bus when all of a sudden I saw the cutest little Mexican girl in slacks come cutting across my sight. She was in one of the buses that had just pulled in with a big sigh of air brakes and was discharging passengers for a rest stop. Her breasts stuck out straight; her little thighs looked delicious; her hair was long and lustrous black; and her eyes were great blue windows with timidities inside. I wished I was on her bus.
From the Archive, Issue 11
Fiction
Bicentennial
By Dan ChiassonMoving as a mind moves across a math problem, / Or an eye across a lover’s body, / Or a dragonfly across the sky, / Or history, through wars and bodies, / Or a film from frame to frame, / Or the moods, strangers to each other, / Or a ferry across a lake all day,
