Nicolas Hyacinthe’s “Hard Edges & Soft Embraces”
Nicolas Hyacinthe is of two cultures, countries, and languages. Every day he straddles the vast chasm within these identities. His story isn’t unique of the Haitian diaspora, but his perspective is. Photography and film are bridges that allow him to navigate from his world to ours. Hard Edges & Soft Embraces is a multi-media meditation on returning home to Haiti… Read more →
Snapshots of the Haus of Glitter’s Practices, Performance, & Petition
We often forget the vitality of breath, of true togetherness, and conscious reflection, which is why The Haus of Glitter Dance Company’s “Decolonizing Creative Practice: Defensiveness Retreat” on March 18th, 2023 and March 25th, 2023 (in cooperation with The School of Embodied Praxis) came as a divine blessing. The Haus of Glitter Dance Company (based in Providence, RI) works, through… Read more →
Fetal Swallows
Wintered, withered fruit fromconcrete patio; half-shadowed,shaped as the illusory top halfof a molded, mummified bird.Fitting and molting into hot palmsof Florida sun and curiosity.Blackened slick of first lookfeathers. An infertile fruitcurled with womb-death.
fudge covered rape story
In Georgia the land is stubborn. It refuses to surrender to the water, spatters out roots and roads and patches of reedy grass for bodylengths into the shallows before it finally gives way. Either this, or the water is stubborn: crawling out hollows in this breathing fossil, Georgia, who makes itself from the millimeters left. Billboards for pralines made fresh… Read more →
The Door is Open. Go.
after Louise Erdrich what are we but star-fucked cell dust balancing on an imaginary line between life & death. h a u n t e d by homes with withered roots; wasp-infested tree houses because we left our apple cores to soften in the heat of summer to sweeten & ferment. i have a ghost occupying my bathroom & on… Read more →
Warning Bell
He Tells Me That Would Never Happen
When it happens,it happens into doorstepsleading to another chamberof the throat Last words laughing,their sets of keys janglingas I try kicking down the doorto their empty, empty rooms.
Anchor
I recognized the speaker at the Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, a man wearing a motorcycle jacket and a bandana. The memory has mostly faded, but I can still see him standing in that jacket, his hands pressing his sides from inside those pockets. My friend Michelle and I sat on folding chairs behind other people in that shadowy room. Motorcycle Jacket… Read more →
a tulip (the only thing)
you traced purple curve & long stem color extended from you— dyed the room. we dove in what i wished on- to wished in- to occurred, first i / the tulip we read together: be(d)side eyes wide, warriors&warriors where we reside, we felt / the tulip grow through.