Jennifer Acker's Blog, page 18
October 8, 2024
Day Hike
AMY STUBER
The deer watches them from behind the tree, blink, step, blink. The world right then is circles in circles in circles, and time is a stupid bee buzz you don’t ever want to hear again. Make it good, make it mean something, make it matter, Renee’s ghost mom says.
The deer watches them from behind the tree, blink, step, blink. The world right then is circles in circles in circles, and time is a stupid bee buzz you don’t ever want to hear again. Make it good, make it mean something, make it matter, Renee’s ghost mom says.
October 2, 2024
Forbes and Martha
SARAH CARSON
What’s to be scared of in a world without ending? It’s those of us who don’t get to stay, that is, who want answers. As if fear is a kind of desire, the most desperate kind of want.
What’s to be scared of in a world without ending? It’s those of us who don’t get to stay, that is, who want answers. As if fear is a kind of desire, the most desperate kind of want.
September 30, 2024
Portfolio from China: Poetry Feature I
LI ZHUANG
In your fantasy, the gilded eaves of Tang poked at the sun. / In their shadow, a phoenix rose. / Amid the smoke of burned pepper and orchids, / the emperor’s favorite consort twirled her long sleeves.
In your fantasy, the gilded eaves of Tang poked at the sun. / In their shadow, a phoenix rose. / Amid the smoke of burned pepper and orchids, / the emperor’s favorite consort twirled her long sleeves.
Paper Summer
YUNHAN FANG
These days, he always closed his eyes when he listened, letting my voice fill the silent room. I wondered whether he still cared about whatever was happening outside of this room and whether he could still understand the words and sentences. But I’d still read to him.
These days, he always closed his eyes when he listened, letting my voice fill the silent room. I wondered whether he still cared about whatever was happening outside of this room and whether he could still understand the words and sentences. But I’d still read to him.
My Five-Thousand-Meter Years
K-YU LIU
The last thing I saw before I entered the building was her arm, which she held limply in the air as if she wanted to wave but the strength didn’t make it past her wrist, and I thought of the flag in Tiananmen Square when the August air was thick and breezeless, how high above us it hung, still and defeated.
The last thing I saw before I entered the building was her arm, which she held limply in the air as if she wanted to wave but the strength didn’t make it past her wrist, and I thought of the flag in Tiananmen Square when the August air was thick and breezeless, how high above us it hung, still and defeated.
The American Scholar
By JIANAN QIAN This piece is part of a special portfolio about youth and contemporary culture in China. Read more from the portfolio here. Alex dislikes the security check in Shanghai’s subway stations, from both an ideological and personal perspective. Being American, he hates any intrusion on privacy. And today he’s carrying a black
Memories of the Rise and Fall of VICE China, 2015-2022
RUONAN ZHENG
Amidst glittering disco balls, fast drum beats, and fake US dollars tossed around by a random rapper, I am introduced to a guy who used to work for Vice China, making short documentaries. His exact greeting was: "Send my best regards to the bosses; I too graduated from there."
Amidst glittering disco balls, fast drum beats, and fake US dollars tossed around by a random rapper, I am introduced to a guy who used to work for Vice China, making short documentaries. His exact greeting was: "Send my best regards to the bosses; I too graduated from there."
Against This Earth, We Knock
JINJIN XU
The script takes the form of a willow-like text, distinctive from traditional Chinese text in its thin shape and elegance. Whenever Grandma He’s grandmother taught her to write the script, she would cry, as if the physical act of writing the script is an act of confession.
The script takes the form of a willow-like text, distinctive from traditional Chinese text in its thin shape and elegance. Whenever Grandma He’s grandmother taught her to write the script, she would cry, as if the physical act of writing the script is an act of confession.
Burning Language: New And Queer Chinese Voices
This online portfolio showcases perspectives from China's younger generation, bringing the breadth and dynamism of their subject matter, style, and voice to an English-reading audience.
Portfolio from China: Poetry Feature II
YUN QIN WANG
June rain draws a cross on the glass. / Alcohol evaporates. / If I come back to you, / I can write. My time in China / is an unending funeral. / Nobody cried. The notebook is wet.
June rain draws a cross on the glass. / Alcohol evaporates. / If I come back to you, / I can write. My time in China / is an unending funeral. / Nobody cried. The notebook is wet.
