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.
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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.”
She stops to look into her mother's face. It is smooth and blank as a stone. Nothing emerges; nothing shifts.
The manner of my demise is of little interest, besides serving as our jumping off point.
The author of The Vinyl Diaries on coming of age during the AIDS pandemic, midlife crises, and the music his younger partners recommend.
Congratulations to all the nominees and winners.
Love was not a drink, and my pursuit of it did not fit perfectly into the rubric of addiction, but it had taken me.
Unlike the many high profile hip-hop figures who have fallen from grace due to their misdeeds in recent years, Playboi Carti's misconduct shows no signs of slowing down his ascent.
