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Michael Grasso

  • Alyosha

    Alyosha

    Sep 5, 2025

    —

    by

    Michael Grasso
    in Fiction

    The summer’s heat was known to bring solids to liquids, ice to water, clots to running blood. On that day in August 1904, the Tsarina felt a turning in her stomach. She gripped her womb, and called to her husband and their maids. They whisked her to the nurse’s room, following each other like a…

  • A Lunch Date

    A Lunch Date

    Sep 5, 2025

    —

    by

    Nora Glass
    in Poetry

    A green restaurant, any time, really. Cigarettes on the ground outside, Sticky floors and fuzzy black mats. Customers scattered like seeds, Two clumped at the bar.    Squeaking seats, a shared Shirley Temple. Salads and sandwiches drifting from Table to table and conversation wafting. A few smiles. Suddenly,   She laughs, and  It’s like the…

  • The Truth Well Expressed

    The Truth Well Expressed

    Sep 5, 2025

    —

    by

    Julia Stern
    in Fiction

    You must believe you have sinned. You don’t go to heaven because you’re good. You go to heaven for a man named Jesus. Ask Jesus to forgive you and he will clean your heart.    These fervid phrases coming from the speakers, designed to lure revelers to the apartment’s empty dancefloor, had a curious pertinence…

  • STAY IN YO LANE, they tell you— the Defense Against Change mission

    STAY IN YO LANE, they tell you— the Defense Against Change mission

    Sep 5, 2025

    —

    by

    Mia Mann-Shafir
    in Essays

    Forests are burning, the air is filthying, and Miley Cyrus has gone slutty. The world is changing, things are out of control. As a people, we stand at the ready: Conservation, Preservation – these are our civil duties. To support our mission, we have built something called the DAC: the Defense Against Change. The Defense…

  • Ben’s Eschatology

    Ben’s Eschatology

    Sep 5, 2025

    —

    by

    Emmett Souder
    in Fiction

    He’s compact, twenty-five, staring at a line of mathematical notation on a whiteboard. He’s in a mostly undecorated, windowless office alone. He rakes his fingers through his hair and rubs the back of his neck. The air is humid and he can hear distant thunder. A beer he hasn’t enjoyed, with a film of condensation…

  • Empty Bottles

    Empty Bottles

    Sep 5, 2025

    —

    by

    Sofiia Shapovalova
    in Fiction

    Sasha awoke too soon for his liking. He felt as if he’d seen the sun rise but an hour ago, when really the waning effects of wine had enabled him to soundly sleep away the past few. It was near eleven now, and he’d forgotten to pull the curtains tight before exhaustion had brought about…

  • what do you get a man for his birthday

    what do you get a man for his birthday

    Aug 3, 2025

    —

    by

    Aina Marzia
    in Poetry

    what do you get a man for his birthday “what is your love language?” father hugged me mother kissed me that is what you say when you don’t know how to love. I never had my room four eyes blinked at the ceiling. was this how I loved? the wings of fireflies and between stolen…

  • Dispatches from Immigration Court

    Dispatches from Immigration Court

    Aug 3, 2025

    —

    by

    Narges Anzali
    in Essays

    From the frontlines of mass deportation.

  • Sira

    Sira

    Aug 3, 2025

    —

    by

    Cathleen Marie Balid
    in Essays

    “I poured my back into the solid wood and floated. I let the water stain my face. Let a wave engulf me on this bitter board of wood, let my elbows sink into the ocean that you loved so much.”

  • Big Vape Never Dies

    Big Vape Never Dies

    Aug 3, 2025

    —

    by

    Ellie Diamond
    in Nass Recommends

    The times are trying. Up is down, wrong is right, protein is in everything and we’re all CONFUSED ABOUT IT. Luckily, some of the Nassau Weekly’s readership has found the solution to fascism taking hold: vaping. Nearly two years ago, I released a list of vape flavors that Big Vape had been formulating in their…

  • воскресенье

    воскресенье

    Aug 3, 2025

    —

    by

    Nell Marcus
    in Poetry

    the sun sets its sorry self behind the dining hall & the clouds above the roof are pink like gently-used gauze. i close my eyes and try to remember how it feels when things are beautiful. on the widow’s walk at the tail end of may we held our breath. the sky lay with its…

  • The Deads

    The Deads

    Aug 3, 2025

    —

    by

    Elena Eiss
    in Uncategorized

    Tracing creeping, tangling, choking vines swallowing cities whole.

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Princeton's weekly alternative magazine since 1976.