This week, the Nass forgot it’s sunscreen at home, but we’re fine to shrivel and burn.
“Her swiping was formulaic. As the ratio of inked to bare skin–the share of pierced to unblemished–increased, so did her interest. She wasn’t attracted to them, necessarily. She was interested in the way they altered their bodies to mark moments in their lives they deemed significant.”
the other night i dreamed of a door that opened to a hill on a hill with one thousand prayer flags tied to the trees and the sun burning the earth making your lips shine iridescent with spit or something else entirely and you telling me you’re thirsty yes i know but for all the…
I am the empty stadium in your dreams, warmly lit by orange peel flowers, domes flaring. My flesh swells in Quiet bloom. To see the infinitive ceiling while it’s dry, I jump into the hole of the Joyceian dog’s nose. It sniffs the citrus of stars and children, imperiled, Quiet below. I float…
“I lay back in the heap of cords, which spawned and propagated from a bud, a navel, the hub of the Mimir, which still ran hot and loud a few minutes into the cooldown protocol.”
Dear Reader, Certain scholars have said that we need new literary forms to accurately reflect the anxieties of this generation. If you’ll indulge us in a navel-glance, this week the Nassau Weekly searches for a physical form that better reflects our sentiments. The Nass aspires to represent our age’s varied zeitgeist–this issue, our…
Protestors disperse from the rally at the Police Headquarters. Many leave the signs that they held the entire day on police cars. Some read “ENOUGH” and “I don’t apologize for my blackness and your fear …” Other protestors continue on to the Brooklyn Bridge, halting traffic.
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