For the first two weeks of kindergarten, Reagan tells her classmates she has sticky venom palms and two invisible eye stalks sprouting from the top of her head because she is a goblin princess.
Conyer Clayton’s debut full-length poetry collection, We Shed Our Skin Like Dynamite, employs dream logic and seemingly disparate images to explore loss and addiction.
They invoke the process of filtering one iteration of art into another, forming a kind of a reflection on artistic interpretation that echoes with cultural appropriation as a theme.
In the last act of John Elizabeth Stintzi’s Vanishing Monuments, the protagonist, Alani Baum, recalls a photograph their mother, Hedwig, took of them as a child, a picture of them digging holes in the backyard.