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RS/NF with S.N. Rodriguez
In the newest edition of RS/NF, Nonfiction Editor Claire Walla and Assistant Editor Matt Torralba Andrews chat with writer S.N. Rodriguez about fairy tales, shifting perceptions on water, and distilling meaning through images in her flash essay, “The Chicken, the Goose, and the Gander.”
Read “The Chicken, the Goose, and the Gander” in River Styx Online.
Poetry
“Then between us the passage faults underground.
/ Think: rooftop of a classic hotel hearing Marco Polo.”
Then I close Judith Butler’s SENSES OF THE SUBJECT / after reading words that I remember as / “I feel only because I have been touched, I feel only on the condition / of being touched, I feel as an ‘I’ becomes a self.”
April’s final Saturday spent circling / museum halls. Photograph of rotting / peaches, shutter-captured intimations— / open mouths, juice-slicked hands, parted / flesh. A knife.
April’s final Saturday spent circling / museum halls. Photograph of rotting / peaches, shutter-captured intimations— / open mouths, juice-slicked hands, parted / flesh. A knife.
“Freud says when you go to bed with someone / you are really going to bed with their parents,”
“A stabbing pain, refrain, my abs / from running thickets through”
“When I die, I will not be demoted / to dust, just a flake of ash to flavor the air / or float downriver into the sea.”
“O I could fill a cinema. / Bent road of jade / birds' loft bed / rain ruining the mountain”
Fiction
“The subject of the missing painting is unidentified, though many believe it to be a self-portrait. Although the painting was never recovered, it has been known for years that the painting survived the war and it is not believed lost, but stolen.”
“An 1898 photograph from McClellan Hall’s earliest days shows maples, forsythias, and a grove of apple trees flourishing on the quadrangle’s lush natural carpet.”
“A rich man wanted to be richer, so he sold stars. How to sell a star? What people desperately want, they choose to believe they can buy.”
“Tonight, I’m in my gazebo that sits on a spit of land, narrow as a writing brush, that juts into the pond. No typing on screens tonight. My wine cup of white celadon sits on its matching saucer.”
“‘We’re here to find a suitable mirror,’ we say to the salesman (Kensington fils from his nametag).”
“Leekin ends at the river. The first people, the Catawba Nation, harnessed it with granite weirs.”
“My story involves a mother and a child left at the border.”
by Amelia Skinner Saint
Nonfiction
“[Photo] Some light penetrates the empty inner courtyard. Otherwise the neat grass is dark, and the shadowed lower edge of the flats almost disappears where the brick meets the ground.”
“The room was humid and smelled of lavender cleaner and mold. Ma tried to dress it up for me, but the place was still a dump.”
“For the first six months of the pandemic, I embraced a monastic lifestyle.”
“John Gardner says there are two plots: man goes on a journey and a stranger comes to town.
In Ellensburg, I’m doing both.”
“When it happened, I suddenly recalled the expression split in two.”
“We may not live there anymore, but the truth is this: you will always know a wilder home…”
“In the harbor, moon jellies pushed their smocks through the tide as the steady barking of sea lions tickled the gulls into frenzied screams.”
“In the harbor, moon jellies pushed their smocks through the tide as the steady barking of sea lions tickled the gulls into frenzied screams.”
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