Comics & Art
The Half Life of
The Bomb was fat and disappointing—a bomb like other bombs, only more of what it was. It was sequence, geometry, like paper creased into a plane or a child’s fortune teller. Cootie catchers. That’s what they had called them in school, doom-saying from their sticky desks.
Walk past baby grave, baby grave, baby grave: so many rows of brand new skeletons, fresh like vegetables in the ground.
I try not to step on their faces. On their tiny plastic caskets of despair.
Kim d. hunter
Once there was man who did very little besides go to work, blame others for the world’s problems and inhale the images and sounds that were transmitted to the implants in his brain.
Excerpt from: It Looked Like What You Needed and Then It Needled You
Sousveillance Pageant has one older brother who is in lock-up and one ex-lover who is there. Within any single given year, the Pageant also has anywhere in the whereabouts of three to four companions who rotate in and out of an assortment of state-enforced and gated walls.
You're a Legend!
Last minute order comes in and you rip the ticket, hold it an inch before your face. Squint one eye. You’re near-sighted. Myopic. Also, pre-diabetic, wet-brained, irritably bowelled. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
Horses Under the Bridge
Horses under the bridge, my father would say to me. Knowing it wasn’t what people said. He meant, let it go. He meant forget about it. Where it equals one of four hundred things I refuse to forget.
The Disabled & Deaf Uprising
article - Report from the Field: Behind the Scenes at AWP with members of The Disabled & Deaf Uprising
This Report from the Field is a post by a collective of anonymous writers regarding the developing controversy concerning noted literary convention AWP.
interview - Artist Interiew
I used art but mostly Photoshop, to save my life to help me express my pain to the world and heal scars in my soul that was making me weak. I started to see how art can help me through my PTSD, social anxiety, depression and how it can help to heal others that feel the same way.
essay - Free Jazz: Where Jazz Meets Poetry, Outside the Poem
What if we came around to thinking about free-form jazz the way we think about a poem? Poems are not puzzles or codes; they are a human voice speaking through intelligence into language. Likewise, jazz, paraphrasing Duke Ellington, is about choosing to be joyful in spite of conditions.
essay - The Dharma and the Pen: On Meditation and Poetry
Though “inspiration” and “spirituality” share a root word—spirare (Latin: to breathe)—the connection of poetry to meditation practice is not simply an etymological one. We might never know if John Keats was a meditator, but his conception of negative capability is a Western analogue
Pianoworks (Disc 1)
Pianoworks is Eluvium’s first solo piano album since his sophomore album, An Accidental Memory In The Case Of Death (2004). Inspired by the quiet thoughts and solitary observations of children – and the evolution/dissolution of that ephemeral, uncorrupted wonder of simple joy....
"The South has a reputation for being somewhere cool queer folks move out of to make their art and be themselves. We at WUSSY know that’s not always the case.
There’s a whole contingency of punk rock southern queerdos who parade in front of conservatives every day. One of the louder voices for these queers comes from the band GRLwood."
Victory Laps and "Glass Island"(featuring Lacey Guthrie of Twin Limb)
Victory Laps, the follow-up to 2014’s dark concept record, The Astronaut, is a dense, song-focused record that maintains Wax Fang’s standard theatrical feel, while leaning into some experimental, electronic-type production ideas.
From What Breaks Becomes the Binding Agent
Together we study what’s broken.
Water drips from the insulation surrounding the copper pipe.
This is not condensation, I say, pressing the foam
and a hot stream spills to the floor.
That lorikeet is ovulating—you shouldn't touch her.
But what if she comes to me? Sips honey from my paper cup?
What if she desires touch, nearing without request or enticement?
from The Talents
on tuesday i wake up early and draw the four of coins. i'm uncertain and unconvinced—i couldn't be enough. grasp at someone else's thoughts or art to express my deepest; want to show up but not as myself, you know. having a handful, taking a few. i'm not alone, i'm not lonely but still i fear it.
Dulce Maria Loynaz
Three poems from Beastiarium
Flies, black stitches
that sew one day to another...
Flies lodged in the great big cake
of fifteen little candles…
I. I prayed for the water to leave. Drowned a goat in the bay with a laurel of juniper hung around its throat. It brayed until it didn’t. I thought this would bring you back. One body for another.
Strapped down in a room. Cream and that ugly green that reflects back ugly: you bruised, terrible, calm. Too much, the mute bulb-flicker. Mountains crowd against the window. I edge in.
Elizabeth Clark Wessel
All my dreams are about disasters – a plane crash, environmental crisis, losing you, searching for you.
I read about puerperal fever. I wonder if Mary Wollstonecraft felt fear in those last days or if pain was too much of a distraction. I think about sacrifice, about
An angry Christ enters limbo with a cross held over his head like a spear. He’s pushing open the door and appears to be crushing three demons made of burnished silver, one with bloody hands, crying out from its bird-like head.
 I had a conversation with my daughter
about the differences between having cancer and being black in america and she told me that cancer is black, dark, dismal and causes depression, blackness in the brain, in the cells, it metastasizes and the people in their angelic lab coats
from Song of Discordia
There is a script I am writing, rewriting, reciting
in order to get away from myself.
As if just there in your upturned palms, new pastoral
appears as a throat making negative sounds open
As I slid over some wet sidewalk dog shit, trying not to fall, I heard a businessman say There’s no such thing as monsters!
Rumi suggested Start a huge foolish project like Noah.
A little note to the one who in life was known as—
Everybody gets elliptical & us—Hello!—all salutary
under lax or activist statutes,
in the little boat, we read, moves always
towards the perviness & necessity of hope.
snow is a mistake foreshadowing the end of all color
as I sit on the tarmac 16D in the specific darkness of a winter
night here comes the scatter here comes the loose edge
One moves from a sense of conﬁdence
One’s footing is learned from a doing
Footing is a phrase denoting conﬁdence
Descending stairs takes such belief
Ascent is blind and normal
Flatlands are unsafe due to the ﬂatness of waters
Moving on earth is difﬁcult and hazardous
Historically it is the number one cause of death
A people’s way of fighting reflects a people’s way of thinking, and the lessons of fighting are very apt, in a kind of dialectical progression, to modify and refine the thinking. …[T]he pragmatic bias of American philosophy is not without significant relation to the encounter between the Monitor and the Merrimac, the Confederate submarine, the earthworks of Petersburg or Atlanta, the observation balloon
Every kind of hiding now. You cannot say “the war.” The dead are loud mouths. Looking forward to a copy of my copy. Care to hum a few bars? “Don’t you forget about me” or “All about Eve.” Home is a staging ground. Render unto gender what is gender’s, render unto race what belongs to race. What if I preferred a skinless cat? Disequilibrium of the punctum. News vacillates, unable to choose. The white van circles