Posts By: Peter Kispert

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Online Feature: “Weight” by Franny Choi


“Weight” by Franny Choi

What is (inside each question lies another question–a question of weight. What brings you to the bed of this river? What is it about this planet that keeps you running back? Each mouth, for example, lets loose a river of black paint which leads most, if not all the way down to the feet, or what might otherwise be referred to as the stem, if we wouldn’t insist on staying untethered to the molecular dirt that keeps wishing us home. In other words, the question here is one of history, of a family tree that finally stretches its arms beyond the kind of life that breathes oxygen into its gills, or reads most of the way through a listicle, or lies in bed dreading the day, or falls down, down into the earth’s oldest memory until it reaches its first quiet, the lullaby it hums when thinking of something else, the slow breath, the thought that almost becomes a thought just before dawn) your country of origin?

“Weight” will appear in Indiana Review 38.1, Summer 2016: GHOST issue.


Franny Choi is the author of Floating, Brilliant, Gone (Write Bloody Publishing, 2014). She has FC - photo2 by Reginald Eldridgereceived awards from the Poetry Foundation and the Rhode Island State Council on the Arts. Her work has appeared in Poetry Magazine, The Journal, Rattle, and others. She is a VONA alumna, a Project VOICE teaching artist, and a member of the Dark Noise Collective.

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Announcing the 2016 Blue Light Books Prize Winner!

We are proud to announce that judge Michael Martone has selected Andrea Lewis’s short story collection WHAT MY LAST MAN DID as the winner of the IR/IU Press 2016 Blue Light Books Prize! We received many excellent short story collections and the competition was fierce. Thank you to everyone who submitted their work for consideration and made this year’s Blue Light Books Prize possible. WHAT MY LAST MAN DID will be published by IU Press in Spring 2017.

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Deadline Extended! 2016 Poetry Prize

Do you need a little more time to polish your poems for our 2016 Poetry Prize, judged by Camille Rankine? Good news: We’ve extended our deadline to April 7, 2016 at midnight EST!

Send your best, and soon. Full contest guidelines can be found here.

We look forward to reading your work!

Camille Rankine’s first book of poetry, Incorrect Merciful OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAImpulses, was recently published from Copper Canyon Press. She is the author of the chapbook Slow Dance with Trip Wire, selected by Cornelius Eady for the Poetry Society of America’s 2010 New York Chapbook Fellowship, and a recipient of a 2010 “Discovery”/Boston Review Poetry Prize. Her poetry has appeared in Atlas Review, American Poet, The Baffler, Boston Review, Denver Quarterly, Gulf Coast, Octopus Magazine, Paper Darts, Phantom Books, A Public Space, Tin House, and elsewhere. She is Assistant Director of the MFA Program in Creative Writing at Manhattanville College and lives in New York City.


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Listen to Sara Brickman Read “Poem for the Men Who Write Poems About Women’s Stories and Make Themselves Look Glorious In the Telling”


Sara Brickman’s great poem, “Poem for the Men Who Write Poems About Women’s Stories and Make Themselves Look Glorious In the Telling,” appears in our most recent issue, Indiana Review 37.2, Winter 2015.

Listen to Sara read her poem here.

Sara Brickman is an author, performer, and activist from Ann Arbor, MI.  eyes copyThe winner of the 2015 Split This Rock Poetry Prize, Sara has received grants from 4Culture, a Ken Warfel Fellowship for Poetry in Community, and a Lambda Literary Emerging Writer Fellowship. Recent work appears in Muzzle, Shift, The New, and the anthology Courage: Daring Poems for Gutsy Girls. Her manuscript was a finalist for the 2015 Pamet River Prize from Yes Yes Books. Sara lives and writes in Charlottesville, VA, where she is a Hoyns Fellow and MFA candidate in Poetry at the University of Virginia.


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Online Feature: “Campfire Sing-Alongs for Opposite Orphans” by Catherine Carberry


At night, the camp was illuminated. We slept during the day to avoid dreams of our parents killing us again, and in the hours before sunrise we laced our boots, packed jerky and marshmallows, and hiked the candle-lined trails that snaked behind our cabins. As junior counselor, I led the nocturnal hikes through the forest. Before my mother accidentally shot me, I had been camping only once, on an overnight Girl Scouts retreat. But after months at the Accidental camp, I could build fires, patch torn tents, and hike the intricate trails without a compass. Sometimes I led the campers in sing-alongs I remembered, and sometimes we were silent. Tonight, our only sounds were soft footsteps on the pine needle floor.

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