By the time we finalized the layout for Ara Oshagan’s photo essay about the Armenian diaspora in Lebanon, his decade-long project comprising memoir and documentary, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine was underway, with horrific consequences.
that color is not color. The red flower, / she tells me, absorbs all light / but red, so reflects red / where she and I can see it.
Slow down. Put away the cream and sugar. Savor this drink by itself. So I begin my sensory coffee-brewing class.
Reconciling What a Son Remembers
Here’s a lesson: If you leave a hole in the forest, / leave a mouth open in pain, astonishment or grief, / something will come to fill it
No light could work its way into Kelsey’s condo after four, so that’s when she held the baby and checked email. She never received much.
Admit it. This is how you want me, slick where desired, / rough where requested.
The Radical Transformation of Fresh Kills
I remember watching my mother / with the horses, the cool, fluid / way she’d guide those enormous / bodies around the long field
