Plinth is one of my favorite online magazines–it is essentially an archive of some of my most favorite living authors. I’m thrilled to have a new poem there, “condensation, not a linear flame.” I tried to wed alchemy with erotica. I liked how it turned out.
I’m a little behind with updates and maintaining this page, but wanted to share some new work out online. The Spectacle Magazine, hosted by the English, Creative Writing, and Visual Arts programs at Washington University in St. Louis, published a short piece of mine, “Yet the grief body is a body of water” as part of their minima series.
I am incredibly honored to have been included in this inaugural issue of SUBLEVEL, a new digital journal launched by the CalArts MFA Creative Writing Program. I shared some of my work that I composed while in the grasslands of Wyoming in 2015. I’ve also allowed them to release one of my full videopoems, “Grasslands, No Wilds.”
I can’t believe I get to to be in the company of Janice Lee Candice Lin, Mel Y. Chen, Jih-Fei Cheng, Solmaz Sharif, Rickey Laurentiis, Hilton Als, Litia Perta, Aisha Sabatini Sloan, Simone White, Andrew F Giles, Steven Karl, Muriel Leung, Asiya Wadud, and Nicholas Wong.
CalArts is an amazing art space to me–a brilliant community of experiment, social engagement, and risk. I’ve loved everyone I’ve intersected with there. I’m honored to be in their digital family, to launch–or burrow–with sublevel.
I just received my author copy of issue 8 of Apogee Journal. I am so grateful to Joey De Jesus and Muriel Leung for inviting me to send work, for including me with such an amazing cohort of writers. I wept reading Justin El-Khazen’s “Hummingbird Effect,” which responds so eloquently to the outrage we all felt at the public and ongoing police brutality across the country. I loved the vibrant reproductions of photographs and installations, the intelligence of their critique and social reach. So many of these pieces describe a haunting, the traumatic post-memory of an Event that is seared into us from a distance, and how we continue. If you want to see how art connects us, how it urgently speaks, then please order a copy and subscribe to this journal.
My piece is a short selection from a personal essay/lyric study/photo series titled “Relinquish the Sky.” It explores cultural orphaning and light.
I’m honored to have had work the other week at a pop-up installation, CTRL + ALT, in NYC curated by the Smithsonian Institute exploring future imaginations. Over 40 artists, scholars, and writers participated in this weekend exhibition, hosted in Chelsea. My piece was an homage to Frank Herbert’s Dune. Check out the program page! Though the exhibition is closed, the website offers outstanding information about the various visual artists who participated. There is so much INCREDIBLE WORK out there!
I’ll be reading in Salt Lake City with Joshua Ware and Sara Eliza Johnson. I should say I’ll be showing video work mostly and reading a handful of poems. I hope the landscape helps dissipate a deep well caught in my throat.
I wrote this a while ago and had it published last month. I experienced a miscarriage. It’s a fairly common occurrence–20% of all pregnancies end in one–but I found it incredibly devastating. As do thousands of others. I shared this in a personal essay at Entropy Magazine–to help dissipate grief, to shine a light, to feel differently about the experience, to understand.
I’ve gotten a lot of responses from readers and others who have experienced this, and I’m glad I shared. I’m glad they reached back out to me. I’m glad we have this other space that we share together, even if it is covered with clouds. This was my first personal essay–and it was such an intimate one–and so I had some trepidation before it went to print. When I quieted myself to find out what was really speaking in me, I only heard my spirit say, Print it. Print it. Print. it. Because what happened was maybe personal, but also not mine. I feel like it happened for so many of us–so even if I was speaking from an intensely personal event, I also wasn’t. I was speaking about a human one.
I hug my partner. I hug my publisher. I hug the phantom never-child that has evaporated into day. And now, several months after the smallest calamity, I can begin to feel some happiness again.