Guernica / A Magazine of Art & Politics

Apr 24

“Little things determine if you know somebody, Cole says. He knows his father likes rock ‘n’ roll. But if he and Cole went to a restaurant, Cole would not know what his father would want to eat.” —

"In 1996, a federal court in Fort Worth found Jackson guilty of conspiracy to possess with intent to distribute methamphetamine, possession with intent to distribute methamphetamine, being a felon in possession of a firearm, and possession of an unregistered firearm.

Jackson, from the rural North Texas town of Boyd, needed thousands of dollars to pay for his critically ill son’s monthly medical expenses. Transporting meth seemed the only way to do it. He thought he had known all the risks involved but he hadn’t.”

The Life Sentence of Dicky Joe Jackson and His Family, by J. Malcolm Garcia - Guernica / A Magazine of Art & Politics

Apr 23

“The principles of the Catholic Church are such that women are secondary. Obviously, when women discovered they had a voice, no one was able to shut them up, and this is what has saved us in this country.” — The Third Maria, Oona Patrick and Dean Ellis interview Maria Teresa Horta - Guernica / A Magazine of Art & Politics

“Sometimes she wonders if her father would have been better off had he received the death penalty. She feels selfish to hope nothing happens to him. It would be easier for him if something did. She would grieve and then the healing would begin. There’s no healing with a life sentence, only limbo and constant worry.

He did what he did and April is glad he was caught and punished and has learned that what he did was wrong. But he wasn’t there to walk her down the aisle, see the birth of her children. Does the punishment fit the crime? She doesn’t think so and feels cheated by the years without him.

You can be dead set against something like drugs until something happens to you, she says, and then it’s hard to know how you’d react or where you’d turn for help.

Maybe she’d have a different outlook if she wasn’t in this situation. But she is.” — The Life Sentence of Dicky Joe Jackson and His Family by J. Malcolm Garcia - Guernica / A Magazine of Art & Politics

Apr 22

“Now that I’ve finished, I feel a void. What saved me was poetry, because I always wrote poetry. I think that poetry saves whoever writes it and saves whoever reads it.” — The Third Maria, Oona Patrick and Dean Ellis interview Maria Teresa Horta - Guernica / A Magazine of Art & Politics

“I think it’s really hard to be joyful. I work hard at it. I always feel like it’s a choice.” — A Muscle of Belief, Erica Wright interviews Barbara Hamby - Guernica / A Magazine of Art & Politics

Apr 21

[video]

“You find a pair of canaries—your mother’s—long buried,
fallen wild. Gone, every muscle, wing, and feather tying the body
together. In your hands, their skeletons like light
slumped over a windowsill, broken-necked.
According to scripture, all you need is faith the size of a claw
to command whatever has left you to return.” — This Is How You Beg by Anna Rose Welch - Guernica / A Magazine of Art & Politics

Image by Lara Viana, Frame, oil on board, 18×16 in, 2008. Photo by Andy Keate, courtesy domobaal"His name was Doctor Kowal. Someone not too distant in time had sheared off the terminal syllables to what was once a real name, the kind you could trace on a map of Eastern Europe."He rose early, while his wife was still a lump in the bed, to his full days. He ate cereal with a sprinkling of fresh coconut and dried fruits, and drank a protein shake, for he worked through lunch hour. He had an antique car, a Benz, with cream-colored leather seats and chrome fenders. Every night, secure in a locked garage, the Benz was shrouded in a chamois cloth."Someone Is There by Jean McGarry - Guernica / A Magazine of Art & Politics

Image by Lara Viana, Frame, oil on board, 18×16 in, 2008. Photo by Andy Keate, courtesy domobaal

"His name was Doctor Kowal. Someone not too distant in time had sheared off the terminal syllables to what was once a real name, the kind you could trace on a map of Eastern Europe.

"He rose early, while his wife was still a lump in the bed, to his full days. He ate cereal with a sprinkling of fresh coconut and dried fruits, and drank a protein shake, for he worked through lunch hour. He had an antique car, a Benz, with cream-colored leather seats and chrome fenders. Every night, secure in a locked garage, the Benz was shrouded in a chamois cloth."

Someone Is There by Jean McGarry - Guernica / A Magazine of Art & Politics

Apr 20

The Common & Guernica Magazine atThe Center for Fiction17 E. 47th St., New York CityTuesday, April 22, 7pm
Have you ever read a novel and felt as though the author was speaking directly to you? Or about you? Guernica and The Common contributors come together to read from and discuss fiction they feel was written just for them and who their own work is addressed to, if anyone. 
The event features authors Benjamin Anastas, Dina Nayeri, Kiese Laymon and is moderated by The Common Editor in Chief Jennifer Acker and Guernica Senior Fiction Editor Meakin Armstrong.

The Common & Guernica Magazine at
The Center for Fiction
17 E. 47th St., New York City

Tuesday, April 22, 7pm

Have you ever read a novel and felt as though the author was speaking directly to you? Or about you? Guernica and The Common contributors come together to read from and discuss fiction they feel was written just for them and who their own work is addressed to, if anyone.

The event features authors Benjamin Anastas, Dina Nayeri, Kiese Laymon and is moderated by The Common Editor in Chief Jennifer Acker and Guernica Senior Fiction Editor Meakin Armstrong.

Apr 18

Shipwrecked

By Tatiana Oroño, translated from the Spanish by Jesse Lee Kercheval

The Castaway found

paper bottle
half-burnt stick or pen
to scribble help I am here

and he was hoisted on the deck with his inheritance
of bones lowered in the berth
and his eyes closed like a patient in a sick bed and he was carried along
like a boy.

They told him likethis better likethis on the soles the skin
the hands that stretched the sheets
said to him yesyes
you must return!

He returned.

The swimming of the ocean
twin to the hull to the ribcage of the boat
taught him at the heart how to swim how
to survive told him the hands go from here to there
as the sea applauded on the other side.

For this
he was enveloped in the whisper of the linen dining tables.
The tribe swallowed him up.

But that was
the last
that they heard
of all those who found neither pen nor charcoal
nor bottle
nor you

because there was only sand all around.

[Originally published at Guernica.]