A neighbor assures me not to worry when the dog eats / rabbit flesh flattened on the street. Uncooked bones / are not sharp enough to hurt, turn an animal inside out.

It’s still a question of how queer exhibitions can function within certain institutions without assimilating, without petrifying living works in order to propose additions to “the” hegemonic canon, but Tag proposes ways forward that walk indeterminacy with confidence.

My head often feels filled with concrete. This is not to say congested. If anything, I am rarely sick.

The spindly stalks creep out from the nexus of the composition like arachnid extremities. The pronounced compression of space pushes the roughly hewn roots into the forefront for the beholder’s contemplation. The sharp points and scraggly edges of the root system prevent easy entrance into the scene. Oller creates a kind of coconut Noli me tangere: we may look, but not touch.

And yet: my work is labor the way love is labor, is liability, is constant risk assessment.

A neighbor assures me not to worry when the dog eats / rabbit flesh flattened on the street. Uncooked bones / are not sharp enough to hurt, turn an animal inside out.

Slower & slower & then, for one/ Whole month, it spun so fast/ It was impossible to be jealous/ Or afraid or lost. Pants flew/ Off of strangers. Lapdogs floated/ Away, zigzagging across/ The sky like balloons.

Her dough-tipped fingers sparrow another pale moon into fullness as a giant beast clouds the thicket of bamboo upon its back with steam. Enough heat can turn a lake into air, the sea into some memory of having once held breath underwater.

In their entry on love, Berlant writes that we tend to (mistakenly) use the objects our desire attaches to in order to assume an identity— “you know who…

For Berlant, part of the problem of politics is that marginalized people have to accommodate the feelings of their majority counterparts in order to successfully…