Alexis Rockman, Drainage Ditch: Georgetown, Guana, 1995, oil on wood, 60 × 100 inches. Courtesy of Jay Gorney Modern Art, New York.
Alexis Rockman, Untitled Mud Drawings, 1994, a combination of sewage, soil, and polymer, 4⅛ × 5¾ inches. Courtesy of Jay Gorney Modern Art, New York.
Alexis Rockman, Untitled Mud Drawings, 1994, a combination of sewage, soil, and polymer, 4⅛ × 5¾ inches. Courtesy of Jay Gorney Modern Art, New York.
Yunes were human once. / They nursed babies and baked bread and made love beneath the shade of the willow tree. / Then they were drowned in the bog on the edge of town. / The marshlands kept them flawless. / Their skin tanned tight as a drum skin, sealing their spirits inside like caged dogs.
Vast plates shifted littler ones / with constant sounds and heat terrible / Then there was a cleft and so a river
“A precisely aimed reach into the immeasurable flow of things.”
Originally published in
Featuring interviews with Frances McDormand, A.M. Homes, Padgett Powell, Tina Girouard, William Pope. L, Butch Morris, Malcolm Morley, Jafar Panahi, and John Elderfield.
Let me tell you first about what it was like being a Black woman poet in the ‘60s, from jump. It meant being invisible. It meant being really invisible. It meant being doubly invisible as a Black feminist woman and it meant being triply indivisible as a Black lesbian and feminist.
Audre Lorde
