Input, Output Play it by hand and by heart—– Through static, censored radio, some tambourine jangles, interprets a crayon illustration one child scrawled after his village was wiped out. The tanks, the shattered slats, they are all re-assembled here where this crayon, this simple tambourine designates the origins of no
Don’t Tell The Kids But There are worse things in this world than boarding school. Like Grandma’s Swedish fish, or a dead crack addict. Like medical experiments on sad, traumatized sheep. Like how we destroyed all the rainforests in search of cheap butter substitutes, and how all your fruit loops
Outside Moves The word for today is agony. Your object is to erase it, release shafts of sun through the bricks of this wall. Scrape mortar, make a corner of just light. Next take paper, any brand. Then rip up enough for every child to color with crayons. Let them
Note from Future Self I’m probably not the right person to explain this, but one bad decision can ruin an entire childhood. You’ll get lost in those shadows, crave sunshine and the eternal tightness of knots. You’ll find little pink pills and therapy bills in the couch. There at the
The Unborn Despite holding a McDonald’s bag in his teeth, a cantaloupe in his left hand, and groceries from Walmart in his right hand, Marcus manages to open his apartment door. McDonald’s is for lunch and the cantaloupe and much of the contents in the bags are for Kätlin’s cravings.