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Reflections on How Writers Make a Living

Our culture cherishes a fantasy of a certain writerly existence.

Reflections on Newtown: No Safe Place

If it were fiction, calling the place Newtown would be too much.

Rehearsals

She had learned that it was easy to get Sylvi to do things.

Remembering Robert Stone

The legendary author Robert Stone, in the words of his friends.

Requiem

Isn’t it nice to think tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes yet?

Resistible

The world is where we brace for a joke that’s about to be played on us.

Respectability and Other Poems

Carte blanche is bodily as chalk on dark asphalt, so enliven these eyes.

Revision

She’d lifted the plot from a TV show she’d watched the night before.

Rewriting Illness

I was happy I had no one to talk to, to be alone. Happy to be in the hospital.

Reynolds Price

Richard

He didn’t fall in line with our well-established porn-shop hierarchy.

River Song

Remember that innocence is risky, memory inconclusive.

Robert Burns

Any invented quotation, played with confidence, can deceive.

Rubrics

“I’ve already submitted the course grades,” Costa said warily.

Rundown

Well, back home has really changed, you won’t get that same bammy.

Running the Table

There was an intimacy to the sound that thrilled me.

Ruth Stone Explains the Book of the Dead to Sylvia Plath

My students are in rows, alive—day-picked apples cut by teeth.

Safety

Tomorrow I’ll be ratted out about the hunting, but I knew it’d be worth it.

Schoolgirl

Outside the kids play stretcher. One of them was dying between my hands.

Schooling

Sing to your sisters in the water, let your arms and lashes flutter.

School’s Out

Kids were just let out of school to spend the summer running in packs.

Secret Papers

The lock surrendered, after a short struggle, to the poker.

Self-Portrait With & Without

You have to be three times better than the white kids, at everything.

Self-Reliance and Other Virtues

The voyage of the best ship is a zigzag line of a hundred tacks.

Selling Cigarettes

It never occurred to me that I was being sold too, standing inside my box. Basil was annoyed. All that training he’d given me going to waste on art? I’ve been selling cigarettes, I said, as if it were a credential.

Senior Spring

I saw myself, and for the first time, I didn’t look away.

Senior-Year Psychology

The sex in these fantasies was always a product of love.

Shattered

Grief is a rude houseguest. She stays up late. She leaves messes.

She’s the Bomb

This is the worst moment of her life, maybe of anybody’s life, ever.

Shirt

Expulsion. He was out, his course set. One word can turn the key.