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Lightplay 017 – Taco Story

What drives us to cook the same foods over and over and over? When I was a kid, tacos were the consolation prize at the end of hour-and-a-half-long custody exchanges where Mom and Dad each drove to a carefully-determined midpoint and handed me and my brother off for the weekend. These handoffs were always a bit melancholy, especially on winter Fridays when the sun was already well down by the time we made it to dad’s house out in the middle of nowhere. We’d walk down the walkway to his house, a million stars spread over our heads, and feel… Read More »Lightplay 017 – Taco Story

Fuck Off We’re Working

. A Manifesto for the Left Hand . The Best Way to Hurt 1. I write poems because this year they forgot to tell me not to. 2. I write poems because rhythm is true and image too. Rhyme only sometimes. 3. We poets are like this, we first think of ourselves as poets and then start writing poems. 4. We’re poets foremost because of the pay. No faster path to the proletariat than writing poems. 5. The privelege of the bourgeois is to want to be proletariat, to imagine themselves proletariat, to use the word proletariat. 6. I sit… Read More »Fuck Off We’re Working

Mr. Buff

. This is the end of the line. All that’s left is Mr. Buff. And he’s in the middle of a mud bath.