Long before its spitting, burning, fiery expulsions; deeper than the acidic pit where its

bubbling first began; beyond its cruel edges and silent tears; rage could be found resting.

On a soft cloud of warmth, threatening to love. 

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Proseterity’s latest issue invites you to get intimate with rage—yours and (hence) the world’s.

Proseterity is looking for essays, prose, poems and art that reckon with the magnificence of anger.

Give us its tender origins, its love stories, its formative years, its deepest desires and formidable fears. 

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Rage can save lives, but is often accused of taking them. Tell us with your words how rage was taught to you.

What rage taught you. Turn rage upside down, flip it inside out, gently peel its skin and

discover its insides, fleshy and tender. Break your rage apart, put it back together, knead it, and trace over

its story until it's an etch. Do not admonish your rage, do not shame it. Proseterity asks for your rage in its full,

splendid glory. And then some more.

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The power of the personal essay lies in the universal truth enmeshed within its prose.

Weaving the personal with the cultural, political, temporal, visceral, and the universal is what

Proseterity looks for in its literary works.

 

We hope to arrive at some responses to—

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How do you live with your rage? 

How do you love it?

How do you tame it? 

How do you unleash it?

Where do you put your rage? 

Does it move? 

Is it still? 

Does it stick? 

Is it loud?

Is your rage the same crimson you are told all rage is? 

How does it taste? 

Like a metallic tinge of blood on the centre of your tongue?

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Is it the blood you drew from biting your tongue over the years, until your words drowned in bile?

Or the blood you wish to draw from the jugular pulsating on the subject of your wrath?