The protagonist of this month’s work is the natural world in its multitudes.

In Being Mangrove, Eliseu Cavalcante explores the relationship between humans and the mangrove forests of Bahia, Brazil.

Global warming manifests in obvious ways.

So this is how it all ends . . .

The wars never ceased, the surveillance and control wrought by our digital world eroded our liberties, unemployment and poverty grew.

I ask myself / if mother's ban / against confessing / . . . is still in place

She can't count how many times she had silicone applied to her body.

Words Without Borders is leaning into poetry's ability to fill the void of isolation.

The pieces here map the translation of event into prose—the creation of true crime writing.

She’s the one who identified the body with your name, address, and document number.

The results of these confrontations range from triumphant to catastrophic as the boundaries between worlds dissolve.

His dead friend had asked him to talk to Janice but hadn’t explained why.

These works reflect a striking range of existential challenges shaping lives across the globe.

I prefer a Paulistano's frown over a Carioca's smile.

References and Further Reading Alves, Miriam.Mulher Mat(r)iz. Belo Horizonte: Nandyala, 2011.Alves, Miriam. Entrevista. Duke, Dawn (Org.). A escritora afro-brasileira: ativismo e arte literária.…

If the literature of a country with the second largest black population worldwide (only Nigeria has a larger black population) does not include that population in its literature, one must ask which Brazil we’re speaking of when we speak of Brazilian…

Politicians know I’m a poet. And that poets face death when their people are oppressed.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Ignorance is a kind of blindness.”

According to Barreto himself, the aim of his crusade was to produce a type of literature that he defined as “militante,” engaging with the society’s most pressing issues and communicating these issues to a wider audience in accessible language.

She was furious! She grew silent again, went upstairs, and searched the nightstand. The pistol was there.

A Black man is always somebody's Black man.

Time, lord of the hours / reigns sovereign

The intensity of the parent-child relationship, with its high emotional stakes, life-and-death responsibility, and inescapable physical proximity, makes for powerful stories.

This month, we bring you the first of three winning entries in the Words without Borders - Play for Voices Radio Drama Contest.

The writers in this month’s feature provide assurance that the genre is source of some of today’s most vibrant and compelling stories, fictional or otherwise.

Sculpted from the blood of mothers and the water of children, their hands birth a piece of Brazil.

In this troubling context, the need for portrayals of queer lives around the world becomes even more urgent.

You cover it up, disguise it, use Vaseline, soap . . .

Many greet the clean slate of a new year by pledging to chalk up only virtue and moderation.

It wasn't our fault . . . it was mostly the fault of William Faulkner.

It is this ready route to the public, and the immediacy of response to some of the most urgent questions of our time, that gives microtheater its enduring appeal.

“Believing in flying saucers . . . is one thing. What is difficult is believing concrete facts.”

The writers here—both those from abroad and those from Brazil—set out to rediscover and portray the diverse Brazils within this dynamic country.

Are you like me, sir? I didn’t buy a word.

Work is too ambiguous a word. Does life work? No, it always wrecks.

But first they sever José Cláudio’s right ear.

“It’s impossible for a sister recluse to sing like that. We no longer feel those emotions.”

“Who cares about an old wreck?”

While he was with the Terena, he captured their lives: a mix of hope, spirituality, and a constant fear of losing their land once again.

He recruits men and trains them and organizes all sorts of crime from his cell.

I’d taken a few capoeira classes that left me barely able to walk.

“One does not kill wolves with poison.”

Everything clamors: / an hour hand gone berserk.

if you want to journey to ithaca / call ahead

my children look to me / and grasp after / absolute truths.

Behind the bigotry and hyperbole lurk the fear of the unknown, the threat to the status quo.

At home, no one suspects I do this. Imagine. It’d destroy my marriage.

The compassionate understand pain, but pain cannot be understood; those who suffer understand nothing.

How to explain / the heat a language exhales

His pains originate in another continent. They are graver, and more ancient.

I don’t enjoy popping anybody, but it's my job.

Thus began the most noteworthy period of transformation in Rio de Janeiro.

The most brutal morning of his life started with interrupted sleep.