A Smile Split By Stars: is there another way to describe a smile undergirded by violence? But to assume only violence exists is to enter the space with preconceived notions, ones that philip and the curators attempt to work beyond.
TRANSLATION
“The Time Is Some Hour Late at Night” and other poems
Translated from Kurdish by Shene Mohammed
INSIGHT
Solving for R
The voice from our body, after all, is just a cover for the voice inside our head.
WIT TEA
From the Archives: Yes, Our Friend Laura Has Been Possessed By The Devil, But I Still Need A Headcount For My Six Flags Birthday Party
Yes, we’ve all been busy contemplating the metaphysical implications of a real actual Satan. Does this mean there is also a God, a Heaven, a Hell?
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Memento Vivere
ron skips across asphalt, black eyes / like stigmatas, gray-brown fur left in the street
As the Hammer Fell
In my twenties I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a mother. When my friends started having kids, however, I worried I was missing out on something.
From the Archives: The Miraculous Vivacity of Salman Toor
To confront a Toor then is to reckon with the nature of art history itself. And simultaneously, it is to imagine a vision of optimistic queer futurity that begins with recognition as a radical form of community building. From paintings of beleaguered South Asian folks worn out in airport security lines, to reconfigurations of queer non-binary folks caught in the heady desire of an embrace, Toor carves out a space for new and vivacious subjectivities that have long been hushed or glossed over.
Every Married Person Knows
This week has been a slow burn / but we both know that Wednesday is tomorrow
Excerpt from “To My Great-Granddaughter, Who Will Find This Letter When I Am Dead” from Patchwork Dolls
First, find uncolonized land. If that is not available to you, soil that is mostly left untreated—preferably even abandoned—will suffice.
