Tag: art

“In the Endless Perfection of Your Absence” by Sahar Khraibani

It is here, in this specific spot, across from this sky, here, where it all began.   Monday, January 30, 2017 at 2:23 PM. Beirut, Lebanon. I have not written about the sea in a while. It has become increasingly harder to think about it, to imagine it, to smell

THE SNAKE BRIDE

When I came into myself, again Yet another awkward re-awakening of this body I saw an imprisoned cage of where a young woman was residing, It was right behind my Mother’sss eyesss A tiny fire lit between the iris of two gazing hazel stonesss One of yearning Death and one

“ON THE WALL” by Moriah M. Mylod

Smacked for my ever first drawing A depiction of a Cephalopd on my bedroom wall I shared the pale blue room with my twin Cribs adjacent A marker taken out of the grips of my clinging little finger tips As my brother watched the beginning of my art career fail

A Conversation Between Three Entities: The Face, The Witness & The Viewer

  The Witness: Why do you cry? The Face: Because, I see. The Witness: What do you see?   ::  The Face stares back for a time where The Witness thought to itself ‘until Kingdom-Come, when will it speak?” The Face’s eyes weld up with the deepest sorrow yet the

Four Poems by Noelia Young

Listen in on a private reading by Noelia Young, a slam poet based in Fayetteville, Arkansas. Her poetry discusses important themes: racism, wisdom, growth, and survival. Time stamps for each poem: “To My Racist Friend” 00:29 “Advice To My College Self” 03:38 “Lulla-bye” 7:01 “Me Too” 10:34  

LILITH: PERCHED IN SILENCE by Moriah M. Mylod

In my dreams we were in Charleston imagining apparitions and clowns I wonder how we could devise plans to become ghosts together in a tourist town to scare off kids and lovers alike And seeing how they still wanted us around even The devil horned The pale-blue eyed The predatorial

Capitalism, Oswald’s day out, Silence by Shivangi Goel

Three poems by contributor Shivangi Goel.   Capitalism We made the world we live in, And we have to make it over. Baldwin says to me, over Tea on couch across generations Of whispers of learnings snuffled Across ink and what confluence Would have it that only this voice reaches,

The Archaic and “Masculine” Beauty: A Review of the Film ‘White Silk Dress’ (Áo lụa Hà Đông) by Tini Ngatini

“My mother said a white silk dress is a symbol of Vietnamese women’s immense suffering as well as their generosity. Through traumatic hardship, through horrific destruction caused by countless wars, the Vietnamese white silk dress still maintains its beauty. The beauty of a Vietnamese woman cannot be characterized by white

I Burned You a CD {Part Two}: A Psychopompous Samhain by M. Perle

              🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤 🖤   🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️ CLICK FOR “PLUTO SHITS ON THE UNIVERSE”   👻     🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇 🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇   CLICK FOR THE STORY OF “THE VIPER”   CLICK FOR HOTEL NOTE                  

Found: A Letter for the Art of Love and Colors by Paul Michael Whitfield

Dear, In Safe and Sound,   I write as the crow flies—ashore, on the hard. Something’s happened, my friend. I’m aground, at liberty, and I think you must know. You’re on a run, of course, and a leg from the vanishing angle. There’s nothing so much to say, after all.

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