Apogee Journal – Page 100 – A journal of literature and art from the margins.

A Common Amnesia By Alex Cuff Originally published in Apogee Issue 4 But not yet have we solved the incantation of this whiteness, and learned why it appeals with such power to the soul; and more strange and far more portentous—why, as we have seen, it is at once the most meaning symbol of spiritual things, nay, the very veil of the Christian’s Deity; and yet should be as it is, the intensifying agent in things the most appalling to mankind. –Herman Melville, Moby Dick, 1851 white butcher paper wrapping the white bagel with the white sesame seeds inside white wax paper white spray paint tagging the framing store on metropolitan before 1691 the word white did not exist white letters of Brooklyn Seoul six white people in the bagel store white napkins the white Nissan sedan parked across the street left over dirty white snow before 1691 the word white did not exist in a legal document the white help wanted sign in the bagel store window me a white girl sitting under the bright white light bulb that many things I do or do not do think or do not think say or do not say...

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One of His Advantages

Apogee Journal

01 Jul 2015

One of His Advantages By T.K. Dalton Excerpted from original publication on The Millions Count weather among the forces that I move through life without understanding. What is its origin? What shapes its future? Parenting is humbling, and I end most days shuffling unwieldy questions like this, rarely dealing out anything like an answer. One frigid Saturday, wind and sleet scratched my plans to grocery-shop with my 16-month-old. He and I detoured, to our nearby library. More than basmati rice or cauliflower, in that moment he needed open space, the familiar thick carpet where he could squat and squeal freely. He needed the warm light of enormous lampshades embossed with ants, birds, and humpback whales. He needed more books. Actually, for different reasons, we both did. My son hadn’t tired of Good Dog, Carl or My Friends. He’d started requesting Tickle, Tickle by name. His mother invoked Knuffle Bunny while he handed her laundry, and Brush Your Teeth, Please had helped me transform a grim chore into something like dessert. (Grape-flavored toothpaste deserves some credit here). For weeks, maybe months, books had reliably engaged him, exciting or calming him depending on the title, the time of day, and...

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A Pair of Chancletas

Apogee Journal

30 Jun 2015

A Pair of Chancletas By Elena Schwolsky The sweet, sticky smell from an overflowing dumpster follows me as I turn the corner onto Calle Amistad—Friendship Street—but I smile to think of my dear friend of many years who I will see in a few short minutes. Threading my way around piles of dog shit and oily puddles from the afternoon rains, I walk in the street like everyone else––moving to the crumbling, narrow sidewalk only when a motorcycle, pedicab or antique car lumbers by. I remember how, years ago, when I first visited Havana in the early 90’s, no matter how hard I tried to fit in, boys would follow me down the block. “Chile! Argentina!” they would call out, trying to match my fair skin to a country they knew. Those were the days when few tourists visited Cuba and even fewer from the U.S. Now, in 2012, no one gives me more than a curious glance. I am red-faced and sweaty by the time I get to Mari’s building. A group of girls is lounging in front of the beautiful old Art-Deco cigar factory across the street, recently transformed into a high school, their mustard yellow...

A Common Amnesia

One of His Advantages

A Pair of Chancletas

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