Until now, the lakes and life had been generous in their gifts, and abundant. Water buoyed us. People I loved lived. I handled the loss like someone who’d gone around believing the things she cherishes would be around forever.
Do they leave together, the language and the last breath?
Maamwimaajaan ina Anishinaabemoyaanh miinwaa neseyaanh?
In an artworld so clearly molded and regulated to serve the needs of the dominant and most privileged sectors of our society and their ways of doing business-the same sectors which benefit from the perpetuation of major conflicts of national, class, race and gender interests-what are the possibilities for oppositional, critical practices to assert themselves and be received?
snow in the blood. my lover’s coo
“Show me the place,” he said.
I removed my shirt and pointed
to a tiny star above my heart.