Scoundrel Time

Country of Under (Excerpt)

The following is an excerpt from Country of Under, a novel that tells the becoming stories of Pilar Salomé Reinfeld, raised by her undocumented father, a descendent of Bolivian Mennonites, in a Mexican...

Neuralink v4.20 ‘Special K’ Release Notes

  Welcome, plebeians! Thank you for being a Neuralink customer, and a special shout out to President Trump for his cooperation regarding the national, mandatory decree of installation. Version 4.20, code...

It’s Soulful and It’s Survival: A Conversation with Four Drag Artivists in the South

I grew up in the mid-90s, cheering on a drag queen friend in my small Texas-Mexico bordertown’s only gay bar. Witnessing the transfiguration of drag, I understood what it was to be an artist—to throw...

A Prelude to Violence

He moved here because he wanted somewhere safe for the kids, away from the traffic and dangers of the city, but it’s the third time the blue Toyota has roared past the front garden in ten minutes, and Frank is...

In Defense of Reluctant Knights and Farm Boys

During my pre-teen years growing up in Austin, Minnesota, the SPAM (the canned meat product, not the computer kind) capital of the world and 100 miles south of Minneapolis, there were no books in the public...

Remember Our Names

Life is devoid of meaning a philosopher once declared, and what is life for if my dreams are obliterated with my city and children are dying. A single, relentless shot, and I become the next number on the long death...

Vito Bambino Decking and Carpentry

was what my father renamed his business after it became clear his Slavic last name was hurting his bottom line. That summer, we started getting calls from “Good Looking” Matt who wanted him to hang crown molding for his...

Where the Men are Hiding:

In trenches, alleyways, tunnels, bodies of water. Atop mountain ranges, under bridges, tucked into caves. I come across a pack of uncles in the river. They’re scared shivering. I want to pet them, say There, There, but...

Two Poems by Judy Halebsky

Writing a New Year Haiku is a Thing first word, first night dream, first glimpse of Mt. Tam “cast your bread upon the water,” my mother would say to mean take your chances, do something, try   a new year haiku—which...

The Aayrouni Olives Always Grow Best

Was it the bomb or the daughter that came first? The vow and a promise to fig trees and ripe lemons, brown pools of sugared dates, my father’s eyes burned with memories of air raids. A ceasefire buried in sumac and...

You have a DNA match!

“Each match holds a different part of your story. Compare aspects like ethnicity, common ancestors, and communities to start assembling your family’s bigger picture.” Overnight in my inbox they arrive stacked like...

I’m Looking for Humans

I want to tell you about my street. It is a one way, winding road lined with Jerusalem sandstone apartment blocks, many old, holding many accumulated stories. On a normal day there is the sound of children playing from...

How to Become American

Watch Friends. Try saying “kʰẽə̃nt” instead of “kɑːnt”.  At dawn, draw a new Rangoli pattern on the threshold of your home in Old Hyderabad. Dry rice flour on damp terracotta tile, it shoots...

FIVE AM ON THE DOT

During the nightshift at the supermarket, we have a forty-five-minute break, which we take whenever. We’re free to split it, to have a thirty-minute break, and save fifteen for when the store reopens, allowed outside...