Blue & Bluer Munch saw a screaming skyin what I may have seen as an unwritten poem, that gnarled viscera of apocalyptic heaven. Artists do it all the time;assign pain to what simply existsbecause we exist & feel so much pain. & then all I can think about are sailboatspeeking out from behind the rubble of ruined […]
I saw begum jaan when she must have been forty.perhaps forty-two.Uff, her half-exalted luster on the bed,And Rabbo’s hands kneading her waist,the purple shawl at her feet. And I,who loved her face limitlessly. at first, there was only this. the overgrowth of her lihaafin my dreams came later.And so it mangroved its wayinto the marsh […]
COME ON, LET’S GO! Burn bridges! Have unprotected sex with your clients and with other strangers! Overshare your interior on a public platform through which it can never fully translate, and follow this with a further oversharing of the other angles of it all in a futile attempt toward representing wholeness. Text your ex! Tell […]
TEXT: here come the tendrils of thoughts […]
Originally from Vancouver, Canada, Alyson Kissner is completing her PhD in Creative Writing at the University of Edinburgh. Her work is focused on themes of gender-based violence, abuse, trauma, and tenderness. She has since published in The Toast and other online journals, with work forthcoming in The Rumpus. She may be reached @alykissner for both questions and community.
please list fluency of languages below: english ______native_______________________like blood in my throat_________________unaccented _______learned ______& memorised,_________________my tongue: a woman_______________________knows how to lay still / waits until you have finished___________speakingarabic ______fluent(?)_____________________i can joke here i can make a home here please__________i say i’m fluent but i mean i can speak with no accent_______________i mean i stopped going […]
Poor blueberries their purple stainsLike a feeling I am feeling broodish I am thinking about being fuckedSober All my days are questions They make a wonderful audienceFor my oblivion performance They make it hard to liveHard to pass the time Hard to forget that I am sittingQuietly I find the need to be dramatic I want […]
it’s a britney mo(u)rning 2021, hospital dream:I wake up half-cyborg,performing open-heart surgerymy brother covered in graveyard, half-buried, alive in making VHS tape, 2002: I stand in a denim skirt, age six, boom-box blasting, baby-face screwed in focus ____I move into memorised choreographymy brother rolls the skateboard we stole together from an americanboy ____when we scaled […]
I’ve been to this party before in a distant past we dancedyou spun me by the palace gates& said: take the memories with you & I fell through it all, this same dream we meet again, small starsin the constellation of youthfloating like love, like this cascadefrom the balcony: pink-frilled & oh, a view of […]
dominic calderon is a writer, filmmaker & technopagan from phoenix, arizona. he believes in making eyes across the room. love letters, death threats, & invitations to fight can be sent on twitter via @ciroc_jon.