This is one of my favorite games!!!
1) Anything Quan Barry has ever written, especially The Unveiling
2) Anything Megan Giddings has ever written, especially The Women Could Fly
3) Ravishing by Eshani Surya
4) Dava Shastri's Last Day by Kirthana Ramisetti
Honestly? A little tempting.
friends, please share ❤️👹:
everyone who follows my bsky account between now (1:08PM EST) and when i’ve crashed into bed with my yasso bar (8PM EST) will be entered into a raffle for a free full edit of 3k words or less
i’m tired of being unpopular
lfg
You’ll find lots of fantastic work here, including “Flighty” by @ianli.bsky.social (Spring ‘25) and “I have been to the market” by @shanaross.bsky.social (Autumn ‘25), both in the Best Poem/Song category!
This is SO. WICKEDLY. GOOD.
Many years ago I wrote a recipe fairytale :)
silverbirchpress.wordpress.com/2014/11/27/j...
This is fantastic! Also: this is devastating - my to-be-read list may never recover!
Oh, this is a fun challenge:
Sarah Pinsker
Lydia Davis
Ted Chiang
Emma Burnett
Yiyun Li
Etgar Keret (although I feel most of my experience with him is dancing at the 10 year cutoff)
In case you are nominating/voting on things...
@mynachang.bsky.social says I’m harrowing, and I couldn’t be more flattered 😍
Peine forte et dure - the news feels like stone after stone being added, and I'm still trying to stand.
And all backers now get a copy of my gingerbread recipe, which...is actually that good. You'll never bother with another.
Hey folks! Come out to support this fantastic anthology - edited by a Canadian, and published by a Canadian small press with a global group of authors.
Next up for stretch goals: interior art
www.kickstarter.com/projects/tyc...
There's nothing like getting sick (cough, headache, general bleh) to make me realize how much work it takes to stay open to people, always find a generous interpretation, stop myself from fiery rants about complicity and malignant capitalism, etc. Am tired. Please send soup.
My friend referred to two of her colleagues as "the minor gods of meh" and yeah, now I'm obsessed with the pantheon of mediocrity.
I'm incredibly finicky about taking classes. I'll be kind about it, but I'm not spending time or money with people who aren't good teachers. I keep coming back for these workshops.
He flew away before I could get a picture, but I have met the fattest of fat magpies. Anyone know what that portends? (I believe he flipped me off as he flew away, but, like, that's all magpies all the time, right?)
This one still makes me feel all the feels. So grateful to @thebraag.bsky.social for giving this poem a platform.
Which, by the way, interpret as you will...it's all of it. all the things. no words. just an attempt to feel lighter if I expel all my breath.
SIGH.
But I do have hope for humanity. (Cheers to another semester coaching amazing young humans in a course on Interpersonal Dynamics.)
This is a truth I am willing to work with. If I start now, I think I can have something coming out of the oven when the kid gets home from school.
The best part of coaching is when you tell someone what you, yourself, need to hear. (In this case, that stability and resilience are absolutely not the same thing.)
And what am I doing? I'm reading poems with an open heart, I'm trying to find the clarity to write, I'm sending stupid little gifs to my friends so they know I love them.
Huge congrats!!!
oooooh....this one's gonna be good....
In this quiet little moment, as I am drinking a second cup of coffee and trying to muster willpower to do my job and mundane things today, I am suddenly fixated on how often my kid has seen me cry in the past year, the last two days especially.
Bonus for managing to get 00 on the microwave, for extra passive-aggressive pique (I'm not sure whose at this point)...
It took an extra coffee and a mid-afternoon ice cream sandwich, but I think I'm going to make it through today.
The cited quote and information written in black against a light blue-white background. At the top is the full Rumpus logo in black.
"In my village, they bathe a blue, / red-crested rooster with a garden hose. / He struts and spreads his wings / and has no patience for little things like me."
From "The Vegetarian," a new poem by @shettyvu.bsky.social.
➡️ buff.ly/56WEUXx
