The Common

Film by SASHA WATERS FREYER Review by HANNAH GERSEN Mary Oliver is a poet whose work is so well-known, so ubiquitous, that even if you think you’ve never read her, you’ve probably heard snippets of her poetry or seen lines of it on Instagram or tumblr. The phrase “your one wild and precious life” from her poem “The Summer Day” and “the soft animal of your body” from “Wild Geese” have become memes.

By MARVIN GARBEH DAVIS, SR. Monrovia, Liberia At night, Monrovia hums differently. The city does not sleep; it simply waits for current, for rain, for something brighter than the day’s promises. The fans stand still, as if they are guards unable to protect anyone. Refrigerators sigh into silence. Somewhere in the distance, a generator coughs to life, and the sound ripples through the neighborhoods like a tired prayer being repeated by many. When the lights go off, time feels different.

This month, we’re pleased to bring you poems by contributors NATALIE BAVAR, PETER COOLEY, GARY J. WHITEHEAD, ANNA LENA PHILLIPS BELL, and JEFFREY HARRISON. Table of Contents Natalie Bavar, “Summer’s Second Sign” Peter Cooley, “Proem” Gary J. Whitehead, “Elegy for Evan” Anna Lena Phillips Bell, “Glass” Jeffrey Harrison, “Abroad” Top, left to right: Natalie Bavar and Peter Cooley. Bottom, left to right: Jeffrey Harrison, Gary J. Whitehead, and Anna Lena Phillips Bell.

By GABRIELLE KORN Excerpted from Long Island Girls Susan wanders aimlessly down the alt rock aisle of Tower Records, one parking lot over from the Walt Whitman Mall, next to the TGI Fridays. She runs her fingers along the top edges of the CDs while a Fall Out Boy song plays through the store’s speakers, nails on a chalkboard with its high-pitched harmonies. She’s wearing her large headphones like a necklace, plugged into a Walkman in her black pleather messenger bag.

By GABRIELA RÁBAGO PALAFOX Review by ASHLEY HONEYSETT The short story collection The Voice of Blood is the first book by Mexican writer Gabriela Rábago Palafox to be translated into English, 35 years after its original publication. Rábago Palafox achieved some recognition in Mexico, winning a number of awards including the prestigious Puebla prize, but was not widely recognized in her lifetime. Interviews and biographical information are limited.

Curated by KEI LIM As summer opens up before us, as we shake off our winter blankets and spring raincoats, writers and readers alike are flocking outside to drink in the long-awaited sunlight. Summer is the season of remembering how it feels to be a member of the world — this strange world of pollen and sneezes, of hot adirondack chairs and sweat, of cool waterfronts and sand between your toes.

By CHELSEA BOLAN When I got home from school that day, my mother was clearly excited about something. She must have been watching for me from the window, because she met me at the door, and behind her I could see something denim folded up on the table beside the teapot. “I have a special treat for you,” she said. My heart ballooned in my chest. Levi’s.

Listen on Apple Podcasts. Listen on Spotify. Transcript: Ro Skelton Ro Skelton speaks to Emily Everett about her essay “Naow’s Boutique,” which appears in The Common’s fall issue. The essay explores Ro’s time living and working in Dakar, where she formed a friendship in her neighborhood that eventually led to a sense of community, and then a community garden, and then a lifelong friendship.

Does the summer heat have you in a writing slump? We’ve got you covered! Weekly Writes is a ten-week program designed to help you create your own place-based writing, beginning July 13. Weekly Writes Summer 2026 kicks off on July 13 to keep you motivated and meeting your writing goals all through the late-summer heat! Sign up now! Weekly Writes Summer 2026 includes brainstorming prompts, writing advice, and accountability checks that keep you motivated.

Poem by ELIAS SADAQ, translated from the Danish by DENVER DAVID ROBINSON. The piece appears in both English and Danish below. Translator’s Note I bought a copy of Elias Sadaq’s debut poetry collection DJINN on a windy December morning in Copenhagen in 2024. Although I’m not Danish, Moroccan, or Muslim, I’ve spent over half my life going between the United States and a small seaside village in Denmark not so far―in kilometers―from where Sadaq grew up.