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Is it that poets can relate to—or, more accurately, aspire to be—a creature that spends most of its life underground, only to emerge—with weeks left to go in its life—to climb a tree, shed its robes, and fly away to sing through its membranes?
But if the recurring dreams—or nightmares—begin when one is very young, too young to have lived into the possibility of resolution, then could it be said that recurring dreams are indications of unresolved conflicts in someone else’s life?
an ever-updating post of recipes
Would it be blasphemous to say or suggest that there is, sometimes, something almost ancestral not only about the people in our lives from whom we are separated and held at a distance, but about the distance itself?
an essay on Muriel Rukeyser
Travel Journals (Part II)
Travel Journals (Part I)
An excerpt from Khadijah Queen's memoir, Not Anyone's Hero
We’ve been asking ourselves and others for years: what would it look like, sound like, feel like, taste like—which histories would be uncovered, licked into visibility—if we were to listen with our tongues?
An excerpt from a 30-page poem
