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Two Poems


Poetry by:
CHARIOT WISH



THE OCEAN IS A MASSIVE SOUND


are you ever crouching
in a doorway
waiting
for some crooked version of god
are you ever shrouded
in the dark
of something burning
on fire

i took the staircase
into the open portion of sky
i did a beautiful secret
at the secret beach

over the ocean
i thought about
peeling the night back
exposing the raw air
on the other side
to wrap us all up in it
the deep cloth of night
we could wear it like a shirt
i thought about putting
my hand through the night
and grabbing it down
and wearing it like a shirt

i dont think it was ever quiet
but you have to really
put your ear up close
to hear it
clearly,
the stars
are crying in shame

is anyone listening
to this beautiful song
this moment?
It will be gone very soon
like magic.

im looking for someone
with a fairy tattoo
who has never seen me sleeping
and wears the night like shirt






diane is dead


dirty sun weaver
beautiful anarchist
little silver earring
heart is an anagram for earth;
there is so much glittering
in the brightness of survival
a thousand summers over
i notice the goodness
beautiful day
sky drenched holy fullness
the beautiful + berserk day
angel pulsing pure sky
where the rain tumbles out
after the heat of the moment
a sort of belief crystalizes in my thought
that i could love you until the end of the world
our shared dream
this is my spring
grief pearled riding the train to manhattan
when david sat us down to give us his prayer
he said, “you remind me of my brother
who died of aids” there are coins falling
from the hole in the sky i can’t write enough
about heaven because i believe in it again
on friday there was something like shattered glass
the sun discoed from it out into the room
looking like the three pink rainbows when we win
this is my spring
everything becoming real
after a lifetime of splintered awareness
this long terrible year marked by love
heart is an anagram for earth
we have to act like this is where
the better world begins
this is my spring
energy energy energy
the earth becomes okay again
earth becomes new becomes
beauty becomes heart becomes
the old ancient timeless beauty
ring out america is dying america
is dead and dying america does not suffer
death no more pointless cruel american
death no sanctioned death no
death penalty no penalty
no prison no penalty no sick sad forms
of new death no twisted song of
expansion expansion expansion
the empire is over and is never built twice
this is my spring
time is going back
to her moon/sun song
the leaves wither, and drop
the flowers come back through
wet + ancient “april”
or whatever we call it now
after the heat of the moment
i want to take your hand and follow
from the edge of this
lifetime of mechanic death
into the day time and the night time
of my spring against the face of your palm
this is my spring
stepping into the future
of wild unleashing






Follow Chariot:

Instagram: @butterflybutterflysmileyface

Bio:

chariot wish is a poet and magician living in new york city. their email address is chariotbirthdaywish@gmail.com.








Three Poems


Poetry by:
MARISSA ZAPPAS




International Velvet

take me to a tea-warm moat coated in fallen wisteria

to broken shells in hell

to that light-scarred place only diamonds remember

and the dearth of my scaled flesh












do you remember you shot a seagull?

go home old man. go tire yourself

of the chew

*

oh Nina

furied are the flames of breath chamade

for the actress rage is salt

*

a man came along by chance













crumbs from a warm prayer

to understand incremental swallowing
take me to water
rub my eyes
those copper bugs to pills






Follow Marissa:


Web: www.marissazappas.com

Instgram: @marissazappas

Twitter: @marissazappas

Bio:

Marissa Zappas is a perfumer, poet and artist currently based in Brooklyn, NY.








Until We Meet Again at a Softer Place


Photo Essay by:
EVELYN HANG YIN




I was hiking deep in the Cascades when I stumbled upon what the locals called the "Chinese wall.” It was a hand stacked rock wall made of mining tailings, stretching as far as the eye could see.

I have since been going to places in rural parts of the West Coast in the United States, in search of stories from early Chinese immigrants.

One of them is Hanford, CA.


























There used to be many more oak trees standing right next to this one. They are now dying, roots soaked in irrigation water during long summer days, quietly waiting for the moment to snap and fall.


























Larry likes to say that even though he is Portuguese, this history is his history too. His grandma took pride in entering the Chinese stores in the 200-feet alley through their back doors.























Some people are gone; they left things in buildings. Some buildings are gone; they left memories in people.










Camille is one of the only Chinese Americans that never moved away. She once said to me: “We are saving this for you, the future. If we don’t save things, they will go away with us, and there aren’t many of us left.”














A Chinese family once lived on this empty lot on Shanghai St, between Cherry Ln and Lotus Ln. They left behind a jujube tree and an array of broken ceramic pieces.














For decades, Chinese people were not allowed to be laid to rest among other Americans.









A group of community members restored this cemetery in 2000, before which it was a field of weeds.







It is in the Chinese tradition that fallen leaves will return to their roots. Yet sometimes the withered leaves are blown away by a little breeze, swirling high up in the air before they land on the ground a few trees down.

The wind took us far away after all. Yet I’d like to believe that no matter what land they are on, the tree roots are all connected and constantly talking to each other. It is the same imaginary roots that bred us, fed us, and nurtured us to become you were and who I am today.

So long, my early friends.

Let us meet again soon at that softer place underground.



Follow Evelyn:


Instagram: @haannngggg

Web: evelynyin.com

Bio:


Evelyn Hang Yin is an interdisciplinary artist and filmmaker based in Los Angeles. Yin investigates how her experience moving between China and the U.S. informs her cultural identity, and is invested in issues of race, history, place/displacement, and collective memory.









Silkworm / Vegetation


Visual Art by:           
MAYA MCGRORY


Poetry by:
SHANE LAVERS





“Silkworm” by Maya McGrory and Shane Lavers, 2020.










“Vegetation” by Maya McGrory and Shane Lavers, 2020. 







Follow Maya:


Instagram: @dream__machine__

Bio:

Maya is a visual artist in :: Dream Machine :: and a musician as ::  COLLE :: Her projects touch on the subjects of family (belonging) & understanding (learning/unlearning). Her friends think it’s obvious she’s a Pisces based on her work. 



Follow Shane:


Instagram: @chanel_beads

Bio:

Shane | aka Chanel Beads is a musician, visual artist and writer. Shane is inspired by small moments of complete knowledge. Being struck with the sense of estatic unity while walking down a sidewalk and how quickly that feeling can stretch into mundanity.







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