A poem is not a song.

The title of Ari Banias’ second collection of poetry is pliable, suggesting opposing meanings if you squint: “a symmetry,” or “asymmetry.”

Sheila Heti’s Pure Colour begins with a nameless narrator explaining that God, after creating all of existence, stepped back from the canvas of creation to contemplate his work, and that this moment of contemplation is the one in which we are all living.

I first read “Love & Solidarity” as a blurry EPUB on my phone, in spare moments snatched from my shifts at one of America’s largest retail chains.

The premise of Domenico Starnone’s novel Trust—a teacher’s life-changing affair with his former student—might suggest to the wary reader a familiar story of predator and prey.

For anyone with a tendency to procrastinate, “tomorrow” is a familiar word.

This collection, a 2021 National Book Award finalist for poetry, spirals in and out of the imaginary, like Andrei Tarkovky’s chignons on the backs of faceless heads.

The first thing to say about Percival Everett’s latest effort, The Trees: A Novel, is that it’s funny.

A common critique of experimental short fiction is that it may fail to balance its brainier, genre-bending tricks with true intuition and care for its characters and the reader.

There are many things a poem is not: a photograph, a radio, a 3D printer. A poem is not tuned to FM or AM; the poem written on a page cannot be manually refocused.

In the Fall of 2019, the nation watched President Trump being tried by the House of Representatives in the first of two impeachments.

Deforestation, spree shooters, plastic bag islands, the last vaquita (a shy, small dolphin with panda eyes)… The world, if we’re being honest, is screwed.

Perfect Black is the long-awaited first book of poetry from Kentucky’s Poet Laureate, Crystal Wilkinson.

Sean Avery Medlin’s debut collection, 808s & Otherworlds (Two Dollar Radio, 2021), is set up like a deluxe box set, the kind that collects a bevy of best tracks and unreleased B-sides and packages it with new art and extended liner notes full of stories verging on myth.

…I will be here when America is nothing but a place of ruins.

On October 1, 1810, about a week before his 33rd birthday, the author and playwright Heinrich von Kleist published the first issue of the world’s very first daily newspaper.

Growing up, especially in a small town, means deciding whether to leave home or stay.

The autumn equinox of my 30th year…

My response to the idea of art as activism fluctuates.

All mystics have the same problem.