I left for Oxford in January of 2023, expecting that my life would be different there. I had spent the...
In the roaring undergirding By the fine old wattled keep I chanted fast my brains to muck And sunk forms...
A single red sclera scans linoleum. It encloses the white irises that I bathe the milling men and women and...
Beyoncé opens the show center stage, visibly pregnant. Her stomach hangs like ripe fruit, encircled by gold chains, like the...
The boy comes in at ten to sit again. He is a model for Hermes. The sculptress wears safety glasses...
The inaugural episode of The New Journal's podcast, an audio companion to our print edition of Volume 56, Issue 2.
From my home in Mumbai, I devoured all of Aimee Catherine’s vlogs. “LIVING LIKE RORY GILMORE FOR A DAY AT...
On October 4th, 1984, a group of Yale students carried cans full of paint into the Lillian Goldman Law Library....
You sat low with me thenagainst the foot of the bedin the week after my father died. I put my...
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