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Radiance crosses a room like
A fever-canister, brief salvo,
Desire’s name caught without rescue
Above boy-romp and traffic.
Out in the thrashing sun-
Light I see how nightshade
Hauls itself up the storm
Fence like a convict, jangles
Its deadly little flowers. It
Isn’t love makes me thus
Connect, we hoist and carry
All that for what we
Got no name. Chigger-brash
The sorrel’s weedy obligados thrive
In sun where you are
Nameless and I am coming.
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Draconian individual punishment distracts from systemic change and reinforces the cruelest and most racist system of incarceration on the planet.
Our well-being depends on a better understanding of how the logic of labor has twisted our relationship with pleasure.
“I was my father’s son. My father was Nai Nai’s least favorite.” A Taiwanese American man, driven from home by a secret, reevaluates his childhood memories of his grandmother.