My mother’s death had punctured some hole in me that drained all my confidence and joy. Everything felt wrong, so I did nothing, backing out of meetings with producers, retreating from every door success opened.
RECENTLY PUBLISHED
Everywhere
We know our place and keep to it. We believe our place to be all places. We find the crack like water. We crawl. We beg. We scream. We tapdance. We sing. We sing. We sing.
Excerpt from Work to Do
For most of the staff, this was just a job. But do the simple math and jobs were most of the hours of a life.
At the Gift Shop in Los Alamos
They are selling J. Robert Oppenheimer bobbleheads and martini shakers and baseball caps and t-shirts and pins and patches and picnic blankets.
Excerpt from “To My Great-Granddaughter, Who Will Find This Letter When I Am Dead” from Patchwork Dolls
First, find uncolonized land. If that is not available to you, soil that is mostly left untreated—preferably even abandoned—will suffice.
From the Archives: Preludes
“According to the local bloggers, the latest census identified 98118, the Rainier Valley in South Seattle, as the most diverse zip code in the US.”
From the Archives: Xiaogui / 小鬼
This is a different kind of dark than the one beneath a bedcover, more like the one inside a fist, a dark where we can’t see our own arms and can pretend for a while that we haven’t yet been booted from our mothers by that god who gets paid to kick girls out of the womb...
