Posts Tagged: 38.1

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Listen to “The Tough Part” by Allegra Hyde

“The Tough Part” by Allegra Hyde appears in 38.1 Summer 2016 issue.

Listen to her read “The Tough Part” here.

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Allegra Hyde_Headshot

Allegra Hyde’s first book, Of This New World, won the John Simmons Short Fiction Award and will debut October 2016. She is the recipient of a Pushcart Prize, as well as a notable mention in Best American Essays 2015. She has been awarded fellowships and grants from The Virginia G. Piper Center for Creative Writing, the National University of Singapore, the Jentel Foundation, The Island School, and the U.S. Fulbright Commission. A perpetual traveler, she recorded this story in Greece. For more about Allegra, visit www.allegrahyde.com.

 

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Listen to Raena Shirali read “tristesse”

 

Raena Shirali’s great poem “tristesse” appears in Indiana Review 38.1, Summer 2016 Ghost theme issue. In this Bluecast, we have chosen to feature the poem both as text and recording; we believe that it is an especially unique opportunity to experience both the sonic and textual qualities of this poem.

Listen to Raena read her poem here.

 

tristesse

girl with paisley hands sobs like a cherub. the courthouse has no lashes but we call it a person anyway. what we associate with smeared mascara. to say, “her expression was soft.” quiet girl children. mural on the elementary school wall of a single stick figure. smiling + looking down. looking like the girl you knew / saw on the news: missing: girl with training bra. girl with nude bra—nipples painted on. the question of breasts. her areolae goosebumped at your touch. girl with pot leaf for a mouth. every building shorter than the church steeples. sky fading gray to gray. how many men do not know where the girls have gone. something sticky, viscous on her glitter heels. heels not made to run from / in. tight leather & all that bullshit about straight teeth. take this woman to be especially not his in white, red, tell power how you really feel. tell him what she was wearing when you last saw her. communicate. you’re hysterical in your yellow room—a mind doesn’t just sail away. the sails on the horizon line look like a line of cocaine / you mean ghosts. you mean a line of cartoon girls in triangular dresses, just outlines floating up the coast—

 

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raenashiraliheadshot

Indian American poet Raena Shirali grew up in Charleston, South Carolina, where she currently lives and teaches English at College of Charleston. Her first book, GILT, is forthcoming in 2016 with YesYes Books, and her work has appeared in Crazyhorse, Four Way Review, Indiana Review, Muzzle Magazine, Ninth Letter, Tupelo Quarterly, Pleiades, and many more. Her other honors include a 2016 Pushcart Prize, the 2016 Cosmonauts Avenue Prize, recognition as a finalist for the 2016 Tupelo Quarterly Poetry Prize, the 2014 Gulf Coast Poetry Prize, recognition as a finalist for the 2014 Ruth Lilly Fellowship, and a “Discovery” / Boston Review Poetry Prize in 2013. She will also be the Spring 2017 Philip Roth Resident at the Stadler Center for Poetry.   

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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.

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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.