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City Lifeexpand_moreNew cartoons from Chris Weyant, Joe Dator, P. C. Vey, and more!
The smart hide their claws in their paws, then add fur for allure.
Longtime residents witness the eruption of violence in Charlottesville.
I stood there, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me.
I wanted to forget my parents’ slow dying together in Ohio.
Purple planets, dirt stars. Imagine the carom in the hall, how it sounded.
Audio clips of Pultizer Prize winner Jennifer Egan on her work.
There it was, the urge to hurt one’s neck by craning toward the dazzle.
Despite cell phones, they seem connected only by smoke.
ConEd drills the street to dendrites, tapping morse at the old house.
We boarded a ferry eager for foaming water rushing toward our feet.
Early on, Castro learned and opposed the unfairness of things.
Staring down the barrel of a black gun I forget I’m no longer just a boy.
How many times had I passed it in a taxicab or walked within sight of it?
Our dog had held down what we had by pressing his belly to the floors.
Paharganj reels with beggars. Old women, boys, breast-feeding girls.
You are so small and fragile now. A shell you cradle in your open palm.
Close mist around window. I attempt gender. Deposit each letter.
I wanted to tear away at the fabric of my pants, dig open my skin.
Yes, the race of children possesses magically sagacious powers!
I take what I want, and have ever since what I want disappeared.
How, like a dream, all the world’s characters are aspects of me.
“You see,” Sister Elba said, smiling, “you should never doubt him.”
Eleanor was the first normal person my brother, Nick, ever dated.
Anne Marie Rooney
I take Saturday’s unpopulated trains, since there is no safety in numbers.
Now all I was, all I had ever been, when it came down to it, was a tenant.
