Protean Magazine

1 month ago | proteanmag.com | Bradley Babendir

As all who’ve tried it and been quickly embarrassed will know, it is physically impossible to pull yourself up by your bootstraps. You’ll find yourself remaining firmly on the dusty ground, tugging at your feet and looking hapless. The phrase’s origin is disputed, but what is clear is that its original meaning was a sarcastic way of saying something was impossible to do.

Jan 6, 2025 | proteanmag.com | Sudip Bhattacharya

had an uncle who preferred flavored alcoholic beverages over therapy, belching his soul from the nether regions of the temple’s forehead, first time i glimpsed Ma Kali’s red tongue lashing out, lava pouring onto the blackened ground, first time i flew, second time, i cried, clutched at my mother’s shawl, murmuring, eyelids stuck, deepening sense of the divine, amidst buttoned shirts reeking of deodorant, and coriander, hair still parted, red lines paving, once, my mother warned me not to open...

Dec 27, 2024 | proteanmag.com | Ryan Moore

Some of the following events may sound disturbingly familiar—consider yourself warned. An empire in decline has taken a rightward political turn, towards what might best be described as “authoritarian populism.” The Empire’s steady slide from its former glory days as a global hegemon has been accelerated in recent years by an economic crisis, which has fallen on the shoulders of working people via rising inflation and unemployment.

Nov 5, 2024 | proteanmag.com | Lena Khalaf Tuffaha

A cabinet of curiosities A conundrum A closed circuit A cost-cost analysis A distance between us A carnival atmosphere A crash landing A lowest common denominator Another day the administration does not make the call to stop the bombs A cage in which we pace A chiaroscuro of the dream Empire’s curtain call A casting out A kiss after death The eve of calumny Our humble offering to the national altar The last day, we are told, it might be easier to organize A continuance A carte blanche A cloak...

Oct 25, 2024 | proteanmag.com | Fady Joudah

I was the tree, the stalk,and my children, the leaves, the crop,then our calories were colonizednot as a metaphor is colonized. Then starvation harvested miracles for us,and solidarity spokein a bubble. Not allbubbles are gassed equal. To be the noise you can be in the bubble,your gas must exceed your liquid,but a bubble wants more. A bubble tsar, you coagulate,coalesce into a steady state,and plant my flag in your bubble. Sometimes awesome acoustics.