Mud Season Review
Grier Martin interviews
Karthik Sethuraman
Poetry associate editor Grier Martin recently had this exchange with Issue #48 featured poet Karthik Sethuraman. Here’s what Karthik had to say about translating literature, the creation of his chapbook, his approach to editing, and more…
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Kathrin Hutson interviews
Prisha Mehta
Fiction co-editor Kathrin Hutson recently had this exchange with Issue #48 fiction author Prisha Mehta. Here’s what Prisha had to say about the submission process, the revision process, her approach to narrative style, and more…
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Kristin LaFollette interviews
John Chang
Art editor Kristin LaFollette recently had this exchange with Issue #48 featured artist John Chang. Here’s what John had to say about the spiritual power of calligraphy, navigating American and Chinese culture through art, the importance of mentors, and more…
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Coty Poynter interviews
Joanna Greenberg
Nonfiction reader Coty Poynter recently had this exchange with Issue #48 featured nonfiction writer Joanna Greenberg. Here’s what Joanna had to say about the tightrope between fact and fiction, the challenge of writing about memory, how pursuing an MFA opened opportunities, and more…
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After Waking
By Karthik Sethuraman
Flame, hushed to embers, exhaled into a final/syllable of smoke. Can I call this a prayer? A wet/wick, sesame oil, matches under straw, and/when I lock the door to the house, I remind myself…
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Coming Home
By Prisha Mehta
There is a room painted yellow and a crib painted white and a child in the crib with a sputter of freckles that will fade and mellow as she grows. There is the scent of baby powder, the rock of distant voices. Her eyes are closed…
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To Believe or to Know
By Joanna Greenberg
It started like this: the second love poem I ever wrote was for you. Before I wrote it, I wrote one to my depression. I was fourteen, and the poem was a long metaphor comparing my unpredictable moods to the weather…
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John Chang Mixed Media John Chang dreams in many worlds and brings back remnants. In his new works, people come and go; yet no one is seen. The migrators leave their shadows in the air and their marks on the sidewalks. Their words and echoes float through storms of sharp, black fragments flying in all […]