a dead body shapeshift into a cyborg to look for his lost body with these details:
facial appearance; a black face snowing with flickery smile.
country; a place where oceans swell from music of blackness peeling its skin.
last seen; …
Poetry
Aubade For A Body Bejewelled With Napalm (after Romeo Oriogun’s “Invisible Man”)
I must be a god the way I keep tiptoeing out of death,
like the miracle of clouds fleeing the sky.
My palms spread out in prayer like the legs of a cheating wife:
Father, take this cup of suffering …
Field 38 & Field 53
Field 38
Because the physical infrastructure can no longer be used to die
by suicide. Because you thought that the birds were robins until
you looked up. Because the mountain trail (you can see it from
here) is broken into …
Calvary & Self-Portrait
CALVARY
John Baldessari, Hegel’s Cellar, 1986
That thick blue line of painter’s tape might as well be holding everything up. The only fact
from the figures,
not the riders lost on top of their horses nor the horses themselves, …
THERE IS SOOT IN YOUR NOSE, A FIRE AT YOUR DOOR, A NOOSE IN YOUR BED
I. america, the dead star, the rotted plum, the leather fingers ‘round Your
neck
Maud Acheampong (they/them) is a Ghanaian-American New Media Performance artist interested in soft technologies like misery, ugliness, nostalgia, monstrosity and the way they manifest in our …
Score III // Litany of Torture
At the museum is a bronze dagger hilt presented as a fragment
looted before any god bound pleasure to books. You swam north.
We had questions. Quickening were years between war then
rumors of people packed into a cave, singing. …
…and, Joan Crawford left her daughter & lucency
… and, Joan Crawford left her daughter
nothing
in her will,
not even
a wire hanger.
lucency
amongst a breathless, debilitating,
incapacitating,
panic attack
i
told
myself
not …
Woman, Bird, Star & Brown sun and house top
Woman, Bird, Star
I closed myself within myself purposely.
The first method by which I tried to contain
miracles was to bind them to me with bandages.
I saw how the rest were living, under canary
yellow skies. But not …
Credible Threats
Too low toilets, sandy plastic, first-grader size.
Someone forgot about middle school girls, skyscrapers
overnight. It’s the only place on campus without
cameras, unexpected refuge for resting bitch faces.
A girl Jackson Pollocks the second stall, spatter
of crimson, daub …
Is It Even A Diaspora Poem Without The Immigrant Parents’ Story?
Make sure they were poor and even if not,
make sure they were poor at some point.
This especially important if you are Brahmin:
no one wants to hear about the white people
who aren’t kind to you in the …
