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On the Rocks
After, as I paddled back out, little strings of flesh swirling around my fingertips, Dave said that he thought I had been getting too close to the rocks.I had taken off on a steep backside break and...
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A Dark Room That Is Completely Wind
He refused to get off the bus. Every finger clamped down on the vinyl seat cushion, legs squeezed tight to chest. He knocked his head against his knees, reeling back, smashing into the seat in front of...
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The Life Jacket
Born from a watery world, you met your family: Father of Vodka, Mother of Depression, Tender Sister. Born into a family of chemical cocktail mismatches. No sloppy diaphragm. No bargaining chip from...
View ArticleThe Saturday Rumpus Essay: Heirlooms
These are the things that I choose to remember, more powerful than the things I’ve already forgotten.*My mom once asked if memories are composites of what we build over the years. I told her that...
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About the Human Hymen (Disambiguation)
When my gynecologist told me that he had broken my hymen, I was focused very intently on ice. This was because I was chewing ice. I was in the recovery room of the Women’s Medical Center and trying not...
View ArticleA Story of Memory: Machine by Susan Steinberg
Most writers have, at some point, taken a deep breath and heeded the age-old advice: Take it one sentence at a time. It’s simple guidance—easy to follow, and ripe with metaphor. Of course for readers...
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Stitching the Sea Together: A Conversation with Kathryn Smith
Poet Kathryn Smith isn’t afraid of channeling ghosts. Reading her first two books, Book of Exodus, about a reclusive Russian family who fled to the Siberian taiga to avoid religious persecution in the...
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Rumpus Original Fiction: Hatch
The river boiled with trout. Alan Blake was beside himself. Guides reported monster fish from River Junction all the way through the box canyon. All day Friday in surgery, the doctor spoke of his plans...
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The Divine Aquatic
Maa sits on the beach watching me swim into the ocean, her face alarmed as she screams, “Don’t go too far, don’t go too far!” I am sixteen and unruly. I keep swimming till the sound of the waves drown...
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Thalassophobia: The Black Boy and the Sea
On the northeast coast of Trinidad rests Balandra beach, a familiar escape and a home to many. Here, where the Atlantic kisses the Caribbean, I remember. I was a pre-teen, curious and stubborn, and I...
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