A new kind of literary pulse

Out in the world, no one sleeps. No one, no one.
No one sleeps.
—Federico García Lorca, “Sleepless City (Brooklyn Bridge Nocturne)”
Madrid 2007. Sometime after 3 am. In six... [+]

After my father toured what would become our neighborhood in Fairfax, California, he knocked on the nearest door and asked the man who answered if it was nice living there.
That man told me... [+]

We have to wear blank black clothes to mask class so our selves don’t intrude.
People with hair in their face must pin their hair off their face.
When you’re wearing black and have you... [+]

1)
At exactly 5:50 p.m., your mother-in-law will anxiously announce, “Someone needs to go get the crabs right now!” When you first met her, shortly after meeting her son, you called her by... [+]

It looks like a ghost heart. And it feels a little like Jello.
—Doris Taylor, bioengineer
I.
On the radio show Speaking of Faith, researcher Doris Taylor is telling us how to build... [+]

1
It was 1983 and I was six years old, riding between my father and brother in my father’s Oldsmobile, back when front seats stretched from door to door. My father drove, and my brother, who... [+]

I was still uncivilized. Among the Starbucks Wednesday morning commuters who awaited lattes while wearing ties, pencil skirts, and blowouts, I stood out. Air-dried hair frizzed from my head, baggy... [+]

It’s not difficult to imagine a line. First, close your eyes. Remember when you were a child and noticed everything about the world: the light stretching just so across the baseball field, the... [+]