From the Archives: The Den of Earl

It was a favorite line of his. More than him saying it, I was frustrated by the expectation that a nine-year-old should know how to thaw and cook red meat. I was forever failing at things I was never taught to do.



Evolution

Dear Honeyblooded, won’t you tune for me /
an ambered fate, a dance atop beauty


Brand New Noise

—her footsteps / on cool white tile, walking down / the hallway.


Pig Brain

whatever i lack, there’s an offal for that




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A cloth with stitches.

Notes on My Grandpa’s Senninbari and the In-Between of Art and Politics

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.