The Common

The Common The Common is a literary journal based at Amherst College. We publish literature and visual art. In short, we seek a modern sense of place.

Finding the extraordinary in the common has long been the mission of literature. Inspired by this mission and the role of the town common, a public gathering place for the display and exchange of ideas, The Common seeks to recapture an old idea. The Common publishes fiction, essays, poetry, documentary vignettes, and images that embody particular times and places both real and imagined; from deser

ts to teeming ports; from Winnipeg to Beijing; from Earth to the Moon: literature and art powerful enough to reach from there to here. Used for decades to describe the tangible local environments and rootedness in works by authors like Faulkner, Frost, and Welty, the idea of a sense of place has fallen out of fashion. Some may think the notion of place outdated or unimportant given our globally mobile populations and technology-driven careers. But these characteristics mean that sense of place is more important now than ever. In our hectic and sometimes alienating world, themes of place provoke us to reflect on our situations and both comfort and fascinate us. Sense of place is not provincial nor old fashioned. It is a characteristic of great literature from all ages around the world. It is, simply, the feeling of being transported, of “being there.” The Common aims to renew and reenergize our literary and artistic sense of place. The Common is published in print biannually from Amherst College in Amherst, Massachusetts. Ours is a small community with far-reaching ideas. We’re a place of farmers, professors, immigrants, liberals, conservatives, dairy cows, to***co plants, strip malls, and Victorian and Brutalist architecture. We have a rich literary history and support a vibrant diversity of artists and authors. The Common fosters regional creative spirit while stitching together a national and international community through publishing literature and art from around the world, bringing readers into a common space. Contact us at [email protected]

01/15/2026

"Utopia, in its original definition, means no place. This poem posits itself at the edge of place ... the possibility that the search we enact in wandering will leave us empty-handed."

Jill Pearlman discusses "U-topia," from this month's poetry feature.

https://buff.ly/eIRyfGV

Poet, fellow traveler. Chaos & Beauty. C.D. Wright, Alice Oswald. Chaps: Diaspora of Things (FLP, upcoming) Capital G (Ravenna Press). "Studying the beautiful is a duel where the artist cries out in fright before suffering defeat." Baudelaire

Sarah Thomas translates Mar Gómez Glez's "Playing Chicken," a Spanish fiction piece about a young student navigating an ...
01/14/2026

Sarah Thomas translates Mar Gómez Glez's "Playing Chicken," a Spanish fiction piece about a young student navigating an overwhelming, complex relationship with her professor -- his power over her, her need for financial aid, and how she can break free from it.

MAR GÓMEZ GLEZ The riddle was waiting in her inbox. Maybe she should find another line of work? Maybe Juan really should break his legs? Maybe she should go back to bed? When she opened her eyes, she didn’t have the faintest idea what time it might be. It could just as easily have been 5PM o...

“It’s not that I imagine I’ve literally been to the moon, but that I came of age in a place where the imaginary and the ...
01/12/2026

“It’s not that I imagine I’ve literally been to the moon, but that I came of age in a place where the imaginary and the material continually displaced one another.”

Daisy Atterbury discusses their debut book The Kármán Line with poet and translator July Westhale in a new interview online now.

DAISY ATTERBURY Growing up in the Southwest, the landscape already felt informed by projection, the language used to describe it extraterrestrial. It’s not that I imagine I’ve literally been to the moon, but that I came of age in a place where the imaginary and the material continually disp...

"That denouement when I too was a spinning child & my head tripped down its irreversible path into the solid corner of t...
01/11/2026

"That denouement when I too was a spinning child & my head tripped down its irreversible path into the solid corner of the piano bench"

Michael Robins's prose poem, published in our newest issue, muses on the irrefutable momentum of boyhood. Check it out below!

MICHAEL ROBINS The boy circles once more through the kitchen, past the ledge of photographs & the St. Francis tin, inside of which sleeps whatever’s left of the dog. My boy shows no signs of…

Weekly Writes Vol. 10 kicks off on January 26, just in time to help you stay accountable on your New Year’s resolutions ...
01/10/2026

Weekly Writes Vol. 10 kicks off on January 26, just in time to help you stay accountable on your New Year’s resolutions and 2026 goals! Sign up below!

buff.ly/dJXKM5T

Weekly Writes is a ten-week program designed to help you create original place-based writing and stay on track with your goals in the new year, beginning January 26.

"this is not the fault of the people but it is / the people’s problem"Sasha Burshteyn's triad of poems featured in Issue...
01/10/2026

"this is not the fault of the people but it is / the people’s problem"

Sasha Burshteyn's triad of poems featured in Issue 30's Ukraine portfolio recount memories of pastoral scenes, industrial decay, and the effects of the Russian invasion. Pick up a copy of Issue 30 or find them at the link below!

SASHA BURSHTEYN The slagheap dominates / the landscape. A new kurgan / for a new age. High grave, waste mound. / To think of life / among the mountains— / that clean, clear air— / and realize…

Weekly Writes Vol. 10 kicks off on January 26, just in time to help you stay accountable on your New Year’s resolutions ...
01/09/2026

Weekly Writes Vol. 10 kicks off on January 26, just in time to help you stay accountable on your New Year’s resolutions and 2026 goals! Sign up below!

https://buff.ly/dJXKM5T

Alex Behm's dispatch from Copenhagen snags on the details of daily life: a snapped tree limb, the changing of seasons, t...
01/07/2026

Alex Behm's dispatch from Copenhagen snags on the details of daily life: a snapped tree limb, the changing of seasons, things bought at the store.

ALEX BEHM My grandfather sits in a recliner and watches infomercials on television. It is 2:57 in the afternoon on an American Sunday and a man wearing a cheap suit tries selling him the New King James Version Bible in twelve parts on CD.

"How strange, to see behind what I’d taken to be solid. A hidden space, suddenly exposed."Listen to Rebecca Worby read h...
01/06/2026

"How strange, to see behind what I’d taken to be solid. A hidden space, suddenly exposed."

Listen to Rebecca Worby read her Issue 30 essay "Body Stories: On Miscarriage and Cancer," in a new recording available online now.

REBECCA WORBY Red, red blood, not the dark red of a period. I know this immediately even though I have only just had my first period in years, and as alarm bells go off in my mind, I begin to…

In the kitchen, I cry to the sound of my mother’s sobs. / Count the injections I have left before the vials run outGray ...
01/04/2026

In the kitchen, I cry to the sound of my mother’s sobs. / Count the injections I have left before the vials run out

Gray Davidson Carroll's "Anti-Aubade" captures the strange hereafter of sunrise on November 6th, 2024.

Read the full Issue 30 piece online. https://buff.ly/L7E4VTJ

"Tomorrow— // what a difficult word—interrupted and intercepted; / and tomorrow, all that we imagined."In quick glances ...
01/03/2026

"Tomorrow— // what a difficult word—interrupted and intercepted; / and tomorrow, all that we imagined."

In quick glances at bullfrogs and oak trees, Marc Vincenz nails a feeling of interconnectedness with all life in his Issue 30 poem "A Meeting on Waterways," now available online.

MARC VINCENZ It seems all the light of morning / has descended here where it’s usually dark / and frogs raise their heads in the bulrushes, / where the last sounds swarm among the oaks. /…

the highest orders! his name on honor lists! / banners! trumpets! salutes! obelisks! / … if my slap hadn’t smashed him d...
12/28/2025

the highest orders! his name on honor lists! / banners! trumpets! salutes! obelisks! / … if my slap hadn’t smashed him dead.

Victor Neborak's "The Mosquito" (trans. John Hennessy & Ostap Kin) elegizes the military career of a pest. Read it online in Issue 30 of The Common.

VIKTOR NEBORAK A kamikaze who would have dropped heavenly tons / on these civilians as on military echelons / and then been posthumously awarded // the highest orders! his name on honor lists! /…

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