The Latest
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Precisely Flesh
Everyone I love is flesh, the kind that shatters in a bomb blast, that breathes a virus in and crumbles, that putrefies when there’s no room at the mobile morgue. At least four thousand one day in winter, overflowing.
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Logan Takes a Lit Test
I ask that my parrot remind me how to breathe. He complies. I take the cue from him as always. Thank you, he says, I say. Papa telling me when I was a child, inhale, inhale, inhale. The village doctor…
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What Is Freedom: Eileen Myles
There’s only one freedom and that is freedom in Palestine and the occupation ending. Then we can talk about freedom anywhere. All our freedoms today are failed because of this nation held captive on their own land.
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Temporary Utopias: Resisting Machine Mind and Cognitive Surrender with Eleni Sikelianos
“There’s a research element to many of my books, not just reading or looking into the archives, in the vein of investigative poetics, but also sensory investigation. Lately, I’ve been calling the books “ancestral encounters.” That seems to cover a…
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Do the Thing: A Conversation with Emily Rapp Black
“I feel more despair now than I did ten years ago; the global uncertainty, mostly. But part of being an artist is to say, “I don’t know what’s going to happen.” To me, that’s the truth of everything. People ask,…
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To Dig a Home
I baby but do not cry. At night, I wander the shores looking for my tears in the sand. My footprints, just skid marks in a desert
