About a year before the summer of ice cream began, my father called Tayo and me into the living room and told us that he would be leaving his job at the Kodak plant in Salt Lake City. He asked us to sit on the couch and he sat down next to...
Letters of Note, a five-year-old blog run by Shaun Usher, is now a book. The blog offers correspondence “deserving of a wider audience” (as its tagline runs). When possible, Usher’s blog presents the letters in their original scans...
In keeping with the theme of our fall issue—Breaking Through—VQR is featuring the work of five promising photographers in an expanded portfolio, all selected from LOOKbetween 2014, an intensive three-day event produced by the LOOK3 Festival...
Does the prospect of love lure a man forward into refuge or is it the inevitable hazard of a lived life? What’s the fair-market worth of the word possibility these days? How tightly is the pursuit of happiness indexed to the commonweal? And...
Poetry is broken language. Even in its “prose” incarnations—proems, prose poems—when lineation is not formally observed, poetry works the break. It interrupts, truncates, burglarizes. Poetry ruptures and ameliorates.
And so they meet for drinks at the open court in the shopping plaza, something that happens quite often as they are wives with no jobs (depending on how you look at it) or wives with jobs (also depending on how you look at it)…
