Features

Nonfiction’s Liquid State

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To the reading eye, a solid block of text suggests a takeover. It demands immersion. It may not be easy to find your place once you look up from the page. It reminds us of the body’s limits.

Letters on Ashon Crawley’s The Lonely Letters

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Each letter is a flexing, embodied interweaving of queer theory, Black studies, music, eros, intellect, art, friendship, religion, body, breath

Silent, Still, Singing, Still: Two Poets in Chorus

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Look closely, and all things seem to have been touched by someone’s pain—all things optical, chemical, mechanical. Everything blossoms in destruction, everything is a deathly flower.

Keeping the Bear Afloat: Lessons from Diane di Prima’s Small Press Legacy

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Fast-paced political publishing still exists, often a display of the power and potential that lies in thinking big and publishing “small.”

On Friendship

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This delight in difference is what black religion in the post-Trump still-neoliberal age, which is another way to say black religion in the age of Thomas Jefferson, in the age of racial capitalism, antiblack racism, and settler colonialism, needs to rediscover.

Love in the Korean Demilitarized Zone

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The appeal to love as a revelatory force is at once a familiar rhetorical strategy for galvanizing peninsular unification platforms and a basic generative paradigm for imagining other worlds emotionally.

Beyond Belief Amongst the Millennials

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What would happen if we looked at the spiritual picture of millennial America through a lens less of function or form but of power, understood historically?

The Headmistress, Interpreted

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The plan was to say adieu and die, alone, by the pond. And if this was indeed her plan, it was a plan that went spectacularly awry.

Adrenochrome Supplements for the Postmodern Condition

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Without any dogmatic adherence to the collection of conspiracies, QAnon followers often choose which of the individual narratives to follow within the larger collection, a build-your-own history.

Talking in the Void

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As we look to philosophers, our sense of failure only grows in intensity.