Letters & Essays
Art & Photography
I read the manuscript of Leslie Jamison’s The Recovering last summer in Winnipeg, Canada, when I was going to several twelve-step meetings a week. I knew and admired Jamison’s 2014 breakthrough essay collection, The Empathy Exams; her ability t…
When looking up the word incarnadine in Merriam Webster I found some truly discomforting writing. After a brief definition of the word (“having the pinkish color of flesh” or “blood red”), there appears a drop-down box with an editor’s…
David Hockney's portfolio from Issue No. 47
“Every time I must find something to do that will look like something a little beyond my capabilities.”
Ever since Nicole first handed me “Scapegoat Child,” the gorgeous yet harrowing piece of short fiction by the late Kathleen Collins in our Spring issue, I’ve found myself returning, time and time again, to the writer’s first posthumous co…
The name on the card was Clark: they were to meet in the ten-minute waiting zone just outside departures. But Clark was late and the morning frigid. McRae got back in his car, drove around, parked in the lot, and walked into baggage claim.
The same ideas or different ones condense, / and you don’t have to sleep again. / Garbage is necessary. That’s another issue / that hasn’t been talked about. // I hear what you’re saying. / Now all together: Everyone is standing /
outside some movement: French spenders, / my business train, jillions / of irregular plurals.