Bryce Taylor
Poetry: For Michele

She would have walked the stage in May and left to walk another way, to forge ahead, but for that absurd lathe and its needless […]

The Letter

A poem by Bryce Taylor.


“A straight line first,” my father said, “then turn ,egde eht teem uoy llit og — yaw rehto eht then back again, like oxen. Oxen […]

A Prodigal Winter

Much could be made of winter’s first real flurry (the way it breaks a bleakness up, disturbs a desolation lately caked on curbs and evening […]

Taylor: Una familia de Armas

De Armas. “Of weapons.” My half-Cuban mother’s maiden name. Which is conceivably related, in some murky hereditary way, to the fact that most of my […]

Taylor: Goodbye, Salinger

It was strange to hear that J. D. Salinger had died. I wasn’t sure how sad I was supposed to be. I’d never met the […]

Taylor: Waking up and finding the light

All night, my eyes were downcast, tethered to books and papers and the computer screen. Enervating flatness. By the time my work was done, the […]

Taylor: A principal worth the name

Last week, a band of courageous Yale students marched around campus and put their chalk to the concrete, advancing new names for those residential colleges […]

Taylor: Working out the passions

“Please do not expectorate in the drinking fountain.” This is the genial greeting you receive as you take a drink in the “Ace” Israel Fitness […]

Taylor: A worm amid tombstones

Black metal spears, their tips pointed skyward, line Grove Street in legions. They form a fence, and behind them are graves. One might wonder, trudging […]

Taylor: Everyone is the Fat Lady

On Sunday, I was lost in the underground. Lost, specifically, in New York City’s subway system, tossed to and fro by the winds of railed […]