Spending time in the archives and, like most people I know, receiving numerous mutual aid requests, I’m struck by how both senninbari and fundraisers remind us of human-made tragedies and policy failures, as well as the commitment individuals and communities can make to each other, despite.
Is it possible to write in English by remaining acutely aware of and consciously borrowing from Indigenous and vernacular aesthetics?
When you have kept a secret most of your life you learn to escape into different realms of possibilities.
"I try to hone a poem invested in memory and imagination to arrive at some deeper question of truth. ...I attempt to create threads that feel familiar, nostalgic even, but that still long for something speculative."
