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Cindy Juyoung Ok
When you leap over the deer carcasses
that line every garden, you will marvel
at their tidiness, at how bloodless a death
by drought can be. When I crawl through
the highway pieces shattered by heat,
I will admire the clean slits as I kick
aside crumbles of broken stone with little
blistering. When you thread between
the overtaken shores and bodies of elders,
frozen, when I follow the fallen saplings'
directions toward the horizon where
colorless sky and earth meet, we will
remember rippling at the birthday parties
for corporations and framing the ash
of beloved photos burnt in wildfire. When
we think of crossing the river to each
other, you from the gorge of the landslide
to me at the crest of the typhoon, it is then
we will find ourselves in a dead imaginary,
in some fictive past where the you exists,
where I is not a myth we use to keep
surviving at the cost of bird and glacier,
home and tenderness. Having ruined
the future of becoming fossils, finally
we will know that it is for nothing we
die, never in place of drowned sea
turtles or swarming locusts, or to foil
cancerous sand and mold, not even for
the dance of subway floods or the graceless
eclipse of all our promises and planets.
from the book HOUSEWORK / Ugly Duckling Presse
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The language assigned to climate reality reflects thought and drives expectation. The “change” in climate change is inaccurate in its alleged neutrality, while “crisis” in the preferable climate crisis evokes personal and social crises that eventually end, norms restored or data points returned to. The market recovers and the sports car gets returned, but there is little restitution possible for this earth. The only end of crisis that seems possible now is the end of the word “crisis” in the evacuation of all language, when its makers and users can no longer exist. 
 
Cover of Olivia Muenz' collection, I Feel Fine
"A Conversation with Olivia Muenz"

"In this moment, I think a neurodivergent brain is much more respectful of the inherent multiplicity of the world and much better at resisting order-making (which feels contradictory with some of our tendencies toward rigid thinking or pattern recognition). Boundaries are more blurred, more flexible....Here, and everywhere, the “you” and “I” and “we” needed to be containers rather than something singular."

via THE ADROIT JOURNAL
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Cover of Courtney LeBlanc's book, Her Whole Bright Life
Andrew Bertaina on Courtney LeBlanc's "Her Whole Bright Life"

"I have always been attracted to visceral writing, that which cuts through or illuminates life as it is lived. Perhaps raising children has made me less patient with ornamentation for its own sake. So, I was delighted to sink into LeBlanc’s world, poems about the death of her father and her relationship to her body, poems that are raw and unvarnished in their honesty about grief, about loss, about the management of the body, all those things we cannot ever really control but still try desperately to."
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