The baby had come from a place none of us could remember. Our grandmother was headed there.
The author of Mother of God discusses the limitations of realism, Frank Bidart, and the anguished duality of shame.
Latest
The baby had come from a place none of us could remember. Our grandmother was headed there.
The author of Mother of God discusses the limitations of realism, Frank Bidart, and the anguished duality of shame.
Standing in the wreckage of these spaces unlocks a sensation people often crave, but can’t name.
It’s an imagined past, a pastoral imaginary, an alternate timeline in the multiverse.
“Bird,” he cried, “I come on behalf of the emperor. Your voice is all anyone speaks of.”
The author of Aesthetica on stardom and online hate, conflict between feminisms, and the evergreen currency of a woman’s image.
“People tend to notice when you say, ‘I can open your front door in thirty seconds.’”
Pregnant potcakes from Belize and Cuba, foster failures from Miami-Dade, puppies found in trash bins.
