There are so many ways to get it wrong, to misread, to come to the pages we assign you—and fail. Maybe you see the same story, one of challenge and…
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A tomboy who chafed at dresses and dolls, I turned up my nose at Little Women and the boringly harmonious, beribboned girls who adorned the cover of my mother’s well-worn…
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WOVEN is an Entropy series and dedicated safe space for essays by persons who engage with #MeToo, sexual assault and harassment, and #DomesticViolence, as well as their intersections with mental…
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Image Credit: Brett Jordan via Unsplash One Sunday evening, I tucked myself into bed earlier than usual with the intention of getting a long night’s rest before the busy…
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She arrives like an epiphany, an emerald-green flash outside my kitchen window, tiny and frenetic, with feathers that shine like soap bubbles. Not much bigger than a dragonfly or a…
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Windmaps I-VII by Joseph Donahue Talisman House, September 2018 200 pages / Amazon / SPD an exegesis with illustrations O: J/D Interiority in The Book of Joseph:…
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Yesterday afternoon I entered the Nitehawk Cinema out of respite from the first day of New York winter to catch an early showing of Bong Joon-Ho’s new film Parasite. I…
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Untitled I. Birds migrate fat, packed for long flights, thin dirt pecked at past dusks’ dim lights. I leave unturned no leaves, return all borrowed twigs, bereft this home…
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“I don’t care—just make it even,” I said to my mom. She turned the clippers on. As the first tufts fell onto the towel draped over my shoulders, I did…
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When I was a fifteen, my family had a large unshaded backyard, a self-propelled gas lawnmower, and no men. The mower was an old LawnBoy: greasy and green, with a…
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Image Credit: James Cochran Monday morning we were up at the big rock we call Everest, with all the girl dolls, gathering. My older daughter, Elsie, was explaining why…
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Margaret Neumann, What You Want Georgia, my then 6-year-old daughter, and I clip on earrings and head to the Dior: From Paris to the World show at the Denver Art…
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Ronald Reagan Was an Idiot (and other observations about my birth year) I was born late. I could give any number of reasons I wanted to stay put. Every birth…
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THE NIGHTLIGHT ANNUNCIATION Last night I dreamed that my front lawn was littered with the bodies of elementary school principals. My instincts tell me this speaks to either the death…