Getting older, you never got old.A gold mine of girl: doe-eyed, sold. In front of the shutter’s clicking,you did what he said, lens-fucking,muttering No hope for women. Piano to camera-ready, plucked at eighteen,barely steady, heavy with mood. Suddenly, you made scarce, laid low.Suddenly, a surprise: you arrivedagain, new world, sullen girls telling tales. Here’s what …
We love hearing about what our esteemed colleagues in the Department of English & Comparative Literature are up to. In the latest installment of our Youtube series “What Are You Working On Now?” John Drury talks about his memoir and poetry projects. A professor of English at UC, John is the author of four poetry …
in the South, a body might do that, orit makes a body feel some type of way.Here rounding at the knees to support the body as it carries my keepingsup the hill; wrists in coats as a bodywalks around the city; picked a hair from my shoulder, but it wasn’t my hair.A body can confide. …
The University of Cincinnati houses an impressive array of recordings from its reading series, dating back to the 1950s. Though many were in the form of records or audio cassettes, a grant a few years ago allowed us to digitize the entire collection—now available online, for free. This project is called The Elliston Project in …
In Issue 14.1 of the CR, you have a chance to read Ethan Chatagnier’s story, “The Unplayable Études.” (Read an excerpt here.) We love how the story meditates on grief, creativity, and other difficulties through the perspective of an acclaimed concert pianist. Here on the blog, we’re pleased also to share with you Chatagnier’s inspiration …
When I was a child, everything was perfect all the time. I was long planned for and executed with great care: my mother dressed me in tailored suits, flounced petticoats, buttons shaped like clocks, sheepskin coats, electric-blue felt, coordinated layers of hot pink and purple, drop waists, sequins, Peter Pan collars with scalloped edges, oversize …
from section Four: No One Who Played with the Rolling Stones Ever Lived on Norris Crescent Even five months, six months, seven months later, you still live among boxes. You arrange them into makeshift walls, section off the part of the living room with your desk. This is your study, itself like a giant cardboard …
Her name is Miranda, and she’s an Engler on her father’s side, raised to be proud of the good her family did during a troubled time. To this day, at every family gathering, an ancient Engler is helped to their feet to tell the story of the weeks, months, years after the Battle of Gettysburg, …
It’s the first day of June: Cicadas hum loudly in the trees here in Ohio, sunset is later and later (nearly 9 p.m. today), and the trees are in full green. In this spirit of late springtime, we are pleased to announce that we are open for submissions to the Robert and Adele Schiff Awards …
The Father, Deceased He appears in a hospital hallway. On the front porch of her home in Phoenix, with a clipboard in his hands, polite and distant, like he might ask her to switch internet service providers. Passing by on the sidewalk in Riley, the town where she grew up. Leaning out of his yellow …
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