By Thom Donovan I have been trying to write this review for longer than I wish to admit. For many days this past summer, I would…
By Christopher Merrill When I was reporting on the war in Bosnia, I always read the dispatches of John Burns, Roger Cohen, and Janine di…
By Jennifer Alise Drew In my early twenties, after the magazine I was working for threw its last party, I managed to string together a handful…
By Sean Higgins Yes, he’s fat. Wide as a beef steer. The kind of fat that befuddles wheelchaired old ladies at Walmart, catches puzzled stares…
By T. C. Boyle The following appears in Issue 2 of, The Iowa Review Volume 47. T.C. Boyle has published fourteen novels and ten collections of short…
By Max Ritvo The black night is a sea urchin. The sea urchin is my mother moving on spiny feet, meat clotting with her desires.…
By Marcus Wicker So first you saw this: Pitch, gumming a two party wagon wheel—mule. Before the cart before the cartwheeling wheel. After, mule suspended…
By Anna Jackson I dreamed last night that you were not you but much younger, as young as our daughter tuning out your instructions, her…