Prose from Poetry Magazine
From the magazine:On Disgust: Gurgling Pits
Disgusting, isn’t it, how much we want to be loved?
Prose from Poetry Magazine
Disgusting, isn’t it, how much we want to be loved?
Prose from Poetry Magazine
Surely the experience of immigration reinforced my predilections, but some people are simply born looking backward.
Prose from Poetry Magazine
Where my ex deemed me unmaternal because of my writing, the opposite is true: I’m no good to anyone if I don’t preserve this one thing for myself.
Prose from Poetry Magazine
When, long after puberty had done its work, I was finally able to re-admit my original understanding of myself to myself, I saw my self-loathing in a new light.
Prose from Poetry Magazine
On Heartbreak: The Beautiful Half of a Golden Hurt
I’ve heard it said that if poets are not writing about death, they’re not writing about anything; the same could be said for love.
Prose from Poetry Magazine
My writing was not more important to me than my wish to have a family. And this is the well from which much of my shame flowed.
Prose from Poetry Magazine
What other kind of writer puts so much stock in the quasi-religious notion of a calling or a vocation?
Prose from Poetry Magazine
If you can describe it, you must not be knowing it.
Prose from Poetry Magazine
I want reading a poem to be a bit like risky sex.
Prose from Poetry Magazine
When asked to muse on an awkward or difficult emotion, I think: Aren’t all emotions awkward?
Prose from Poetry Magazine
It may be that offishness is a feature of any great poem.
Prose from Poetry Magazine
It is the voice of both our lives and our unled lives.
Prose from Poetry Magazine
Loneliness, then, means understanding—and accepting, though some days this is only slightly easier than others—that no one knows me.
Prose from Poetry Magazine
On Crestfallenness: A Pilgrim, Not a Tractor
Prose from Poetry Magazine
On Boredom: How I Found Out My Parents Were Siblings
Prose from Poetry Magazine
On Panic: Whose Woods These Are I Think I Know