FICTION
This is a different kind of dark than the one beneath a bedcover, more like the one inside a fist, a dark where we can’t see our own arms and can pretend for a while that we haven’t yet been booted from our mothers by that god who gets paid to kick girl out of the womb...
POETRY
as if we could lay ourselves down at our own feet /
to mourn, as if we could shuck skin like a snake, slide away /
naked and new, some born-again eve.
ART
Even currently our joy is clouded by police brutality, the killings of black transwomen and more. My photos reverse the tradition of darkness in a very literal sense.
ENUMERATE
Q-tips; under-the-tongue thermometers; ear thermometers; once, a meat thermometer; a Neti pot, swiftly rejected; toothpicks; anal beads; lollipops from the doctor’s office; lollipops from the bank drive-thru; upwards of 57,000 pounds of food; 43.5 gallons of alcohol; needles; the lip of a pipe...
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RECENTLY PUBLISHED
in the room / i am prescribed / anger / unemployment / broken / back / doors / hooded
/ property / value / algorithmic // blackness
Our dining room table is the queen of all spaces in our home. It carries our fears and secrets. It offers us a place to eat our meals, sit, rest, and reflect.
my people die like a poisson process. i listen to the rain count bodies
while the thunder weeps with me.
maybe i wake and feel the wind move through my body
/ but she reminds me what love lives in this skin, / says stay. says stay anyways.
Their presence, as out gay boys, created a space and time where there was seemingly none in my life.
