“What does it mean to be like a rhizome? It means to be without roots, a deserted plant drifting in the desert. In Arabic, to
The streets of Oklahoma were pitch-dark, I thought the power was gone. How come these gringos don’t use light poles? I asked. Saturday at noon.
This is what war does— to women— makes them warriors— cuts their breasts stops the gushing of their wombs— changes their nails to bayonets— Their
Which Love? I knew the tongue but not the weight of the words. I learned that love—so heavy where I come from it
Artist Statement: Sinejan Kılıç Buchina has for the last several years been exhaustively working on a series focused on time, material growth and social diaspora.
Mi corazon, an ivory-veined granite rock tossed into the Rio Grande moons ago. I want to float up, pierce the muddied waters like a machete
There are hidden pieces of bone in my mother’s breath: she spat out fragments of history for her children to augur. The mystery of my
Humo Somos el
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