Statement from the artist on the piece: Queer, feminine, chicanx, womxn, are all categories that are supposed to be my identity but are unstable and their meanings change as I move across time and space. I use make-up to explore identity in its
Oh master of two worlds The crescent moon has pulled your light on like shelter. Reclined now, I ask questions like: why, and is the sky really your home, and what if you had never made anyone at all. Today they wake
Section I – Diversion/ Focus This section’s instructions are listed below, but the questions will be dispersed throughout the Test in any section. The instructions to these particular questions will only be posted this once. The questions may or
Cecily Schuler is a genderqueer writer and spoken word artist, raised and based in South Florida. Their work is featured in Jai Alai Magazine, Winter Tangerine, the Offing, great weather for MEDIA and elsewhere. Cecily
i lay / awake / wrapped in layers of clothes / and blankets / and fear / the night hums / hisses / i hold vigil for my innocence / a constant attendance / attention / to detail / the way the light shifts / under the door / the fact
‘It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realize what’s changed, is you.’ Eric Roth, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button 1. West Street, Ilminster 2.
“Compensation” shows itself as a consistent, gendered thread in my life story. Compensating for my other family member’s disappointments to make my mom smile. Compensating for the body I knew I wouldn’t stretch into.
A story in parts A list of things I thought of and had to restrain myself from doing before my grandmother’s funeral Pack shorts and sneakers and a hoodie and my my BLACKLIVESMATTER bracelet and a book into a survival pack
What does genre mean to you and how does it build/unbuild your work? Lauren Russell is the author of What’s Hanging on the Hush (Ahsahta, 2017). She was the 2014-2015 Jay C. and Ruth Halls Poetry Fellow
occasional elements and bodies they make Sunlight, consequence of sun, wakes me. Sweeps slow, roams my skin, my down of hair, the dawn, rising. Spring mornings, graceful, breaking. Waking, consequence of sleep—sleep of waking. Today i may