#Maryan Nagy Captan

[noleavestoblow]

But I don't worship anyone or anything except the sea and the mountains and they will kill me eventually, and I will die willingly. That is my only prayer.

-Maryan Nagy Captan

[yespoetry]

Maryan Nagy Captan: Blood Pact

blood pact

 1

 he orders you to drop the sewing pins their tips metallic and candy-like from the fourth floor window while your family celebrates below.

 she turned one today the yard is littered with pink.

 your relatives a familiar shade of lobster prattle on in pairs.

 this party is hers this adoration is hers the cake with her name on it.

 he has stolen the pins from your grandmother’s kit: a tannish woven basket frayed with a broken latch.

 you drop the pins into the crowd like kamikaze pilots, trusting gravity’s intentions and aiming at no one in particular.

 2

 when he was born your mama poured every ounce of pluck into raising him up right. an unshakable ray aimed at his chest, scanning each hiccup and turtle-lipped yawn.

 3

 to pacify the sting, you push the blood between your teeth, a smear of pink, faint on your lower lip. he pulls back his hand, the flow now ferocious, his blood drizzling into the grass beneath you.

 he has taught you the act of vanishing, the art of mischief, has secured your place in family history as co-conspirator, as Troubled Shadow.

 4

 in a game of tag, you are always it. you must get rid of whatever it is, but it is you.

 5

 dressed in summer sweat and finally at the lake, he presents the object. on the way to the lake, the object remains hidden. you wonder if it’s the toaster, you wonder if it’s the telephone, you wonder if it’s a pack of gum or your father’s gun or the screws from your rocking chair that he'll throw into the lake and now the joke’s on you.

her doll is not new but a hand-me-down. it is wearing lace, a white christening gown speckled with mud. its shape leaves an imprint, wet on his back.

 “You should cut the hair off,” he grins, holding out the pair of shears from the shed.

 you reach for the doll, squeeze the middle hard to make certain he can’t yank it back. he can tell you’re not convinced, your brows cartoonishly knit. he knows you; he knows how you buckle, what triggers the tears.

 the grass by the lake is long, it scratches and houses bloodthirsty demons. you slap your shin, you slap your collarbone, you slap your chest, it echoes, you slap your temple, twice. this wilderness is feral. you swear the scissors nearly catch fire in the sunlight. the lake water must be boiling, its fish now ghosts.

 6

 when you were born, her love like cell division split and split again as he looked on.

 7

 you are drawn to the tone of his laughter you wince and rue and crave a sardonic approval.

 he tells you his mattress is stuffed with hundreds, a million sacks of coins.

 your grandmother fears he’ll split concrete with his stomp, begs her god for mercy.

where did he learn this?

 you are too young to ask better questions, to think past your father. perhaps the answer is your father.

 he carries on.

 8

 you imagine you are running away from home, that the house itself is it. you pretend that he has taken the lead to guide the two of you to freedom, the home away from home. the smell of bacon encircles the yard. the lawn is newly mowed with bits of grass collecting on your sneakers. your sister watches from a distance with legs so small she couldn’t keep up if you ran on your knees. it is nearly lunch time.

 he runs you around for such a long while, your breathing labored and polluting your play. when you tag his dampened back, you are breathless.

 but in the curl of his lip, he is ready to retaliate. it is always a game of retaliation.

 he does you the favor of a ten second head start. you are breathless. he shoves you to the ground, a hard deliberate tag that tangles your braids.

 you are distraught, the bacon is burning, you can smell that it has charred, the air now soiled. 

 you are overwhelmed by his limbs, the grass clippings in your hair and mouth.

 your sister takes note of the scuffle as the sweat drips off of his nose and onto yours.

 9

 he dares                  you to eat the play doh, to try it

he dares                  you to place one of the legs

onto your tongue

the harvestman limping in the dirt

he dares                  you to pluck

the blinking light off

the firefly

place it onto your tooth

and you do it and then do it again

the next day to make your cousin laugh

he dares                  you to stick the sewing pin through

the tough skin of your finger

now do it 9 more times

he dares                  you to

he dares                  you to

he dares                  you to but

he dared                  you to

 10

 you learn that human beings need oxygen to survive and entertain the idea of shutting off the air in your bedroom, locking the door and sealing the three of you inside. you and your sister will breathe fine, you’ve found a way to extract the oxygen that brothers need from your own. first, he will wake up coughing then he will turn blue and then he will vanish into thin air.

housewife

  the skirt only fluffs when you’ve wrung it through twice.

 pour in hot soup to rinse out the wounds save sap from chopped trees trees chopped by hands belonging to a man tending fire while the mother shapes sap into toys for the children.

 toys for the children and soup to rinse out wounds, an infantile comfort. a comfort which held up until the children outgrew the coddle and began chopping wood like their father.

their father, a man who walks on all fours, will shoot a doe from behind empty its insides and use its parts for the children.

 see, toys made of sap seldom cross paths with axe-wielding children.

 she prepares their meals: a routine, bows her head on the counter because she’s dizzy but doesn’t miss a beat when the kettle steams she thinks how lovely it would be to leave and swim in the ocean all day, meet a stranger at midnight, kiss the cleft, and have him sit funny on a mattress.

 like a stranger would at first, seeing that all new things are funny. have him lay funny on a mattress and take love from him.

 Is there much else funnier than taking love from a stranger?

 a man who proposes marriage in bed is a man who chops to build to burn

is a man who wraps around the mother like tendrils but appeals to thorny children who grow sweet at first then bitter, uncaring towards a mother who still kisses scars in company and squirms at the sight of spoiled meat.

 see, the mother (much stranger) cannot crawl on hands and knees to support the weight of three.

 with skirts fluffed and wrung through twice, lashes fanned and pointing in all the directions she prays to travel, to the direction of the ocean, to the direction of a stranger who eases towards the surface, his face speckled with bits his eyes pleased and pleasing… a stranger who eases towards the surface to lay funny on a mattress.

Maryan Nagy Captan is an experimental writer, educator, and performance poet based in Austin, Texas. She is a Fellow at The Michener Center for Writers and serves as the Marketing Director for Bat City Review. Maryan is the author of copy/body (Empty Set Press, 2017) and an alumna of the Disquiet International Literary Program. Her work has appeared in or is forthcoming in The Egyptian Writers Folio (Anomaly Press), Foundry, AJAR, Apiary Magazine, Mantra Review, Boneless/Skinless, Sundog Lit, and elsewhere.

[lifeinpoetry]

Free Poetry Ebooks & Sales (12/28)

A couple of sales (or ebook/audiobook additions) I’ve noticed recently. 

Ordinary Beast by Nicole Sealey - $0.99

Don't Call Us Dead by Danez Smith - $2.99

The Book of Disquiet by Fernando Pessoa  - $2.99

A Field Guide to Getting Lost by Rebecca Solnit - $1.99

Territory of Light by Yuko Tsushima - $2.99

Free Ebooks

copy/body by Maryan Nagy Captan

The Whore Madonna Leads The Black Mass by Jenna Velez

Songbook for a Boy Inside by Laura Buccieri

There’s a Moth in my Lazy Pompadour by Raquel Gutiérrez

from Day by Fred Moten

METRO BOOMIN WANT SOME MORE NIGGA by Simone White

& more black by t’ai freedom ford

ON SELF CARE by Mahogany L. Browne

REAL LIFE: With Voice and Rights by Julie Carr

DIARY by Yanyi

The Hand Has Twenty-Seven Bones—: These Hands If Not Gods by Natalie Diaz

GIFT by Pamela Sneed

The Endurance by Sina Queyras

Internal Combustion by Alexis Pope, Chialun Chang, Saretta Morgan, aung.robo, Emma Marshall, Katelyn Peterson, Ra Ruiz, Ru Puro

Wow Wow Wow Wow by Kevin Killian

Now in Ebook (or Audiobook)

...and Other Disasters by Malka Older (ebook)

How to Sit by Tyrese Coleman (ebook)

Swelles by Sina Queyras (ebook)

Finding Places to Make Places by Alexei Perry Cox (ebook)

99 Names of Exile by Kaveh Bassiri (ebook)

Saraswati Takes Back the Alphabet by Shilpa Kamat (ebook)

Socialist Realism by Trisha Low (ebook)

Becoming the Bronze Idol by Rita Mookerjee (ebook)

while they sleep (under the bed is another country) by Raquel Salas Rivera

Audiobook (Direct from publisher)

Audiobook (Audible)

PDF (Direct from publisher)

Kindle

Sale

Button Poetry - 50% off ebooks & audiobooks (until 12/31)

[noleavestoblow]

We took an empty highway through the Sierra Madre Occidental. The road was unfinished, blocked off, but we did it anyway. We shared the highway with iguanas, cattle, no humans, and birds. I wondered how far we'd push it I didn't say, turn back, turn back. I wanted to see it to its end, but a tunnel stopped us, one we couldn't hold our breaths long enough to travel through.

-Maryan Nagy Captan

[yespoetry]

An Interview with Maryan Nagy Captan

copy/body by Maryan Nagy Captan is a poetry collection that explores identity, place, home, gender, and family dynamics. It was originally published by Empty Set Press in 2017. With the close of Empty Set earlier this, we have partnered up with ESP and are offering the chapbook as a free ebook. You can read an interview with the Captan below (and poems from the collection are forthcoming on our site on Monday, October 14), and can download the collection here and below.

Did you write this collection to any kind of music?

This collection spans about 9 years worth of work. The oldest poem in the collection, "Housewife", was written in 2009 while "Blood Pact" was completed in 2017.  There are so many albums that are my tried and true and have been for the past decade which deeply influenced the bulk of the work: The Lemon of Pink by The Books,  Shake Shugaree by Elizabeth Cotton, Veneer by Jose Gonzalez, Noah’s Ark by CocoRosie, Aquimini by Outkast, Rain Dogs by Tom Waits, Plaisirs D'Amour by Rene Aubry, anything by Bessie Smith, anything by Kendrick Lamar, anything by John Cage, In Rainbows by Radiohead, the list goes on and on. 

Describe your favorite meal.   

I'm not sure if it qualifies as a meal but a minimum of 20 pieces of my mama's waraq ineb drenched in lemon juice (preferably eaten on the couch next to my dad while we switch between watching Wimbleton and Lebanese soap operas on DISH Network).

Choose three books that you've always identified with?  

I have such a hard time answering questions about identifying with books or characters. I think partially because I don’t read narratives where I identify with the characters. I read to escape into form and language. However, I do have books that I love and have read many, many times over the last several years. Tender Buttons by Gertrude Stein is a bible, as is Recyclopedia by Harryette Mullen, and Zong! by M. NourbeSe Philip come to mind. 

However, I find myself identifying much, much more strongly with visual art. I feel most connected to the work of Masao Yamamoto, Louis Bourgeois, Joan Miro, Paula Rego, and Ren Hang. 

Choose one painting that describes who you are. What is it?  

For the past few years, I’ve been enamored with the work of Julie Speed, an oil painter and collage artist based in Marfa, TX. My current favorite piece is titled “Eyes to See.” How does it describe me? I like to think that I am both figures in this painting. As a writer and performance poet, I get self conscious about overwriting or being too insistent in the work. As a reader and citizen of the world, I sometimes feel overwhelmed by the amount of information and insight that we’re expected to consume regularly. It can be suffocating. 

However, behind all the chaos of humanity is a bird and a tree and an open window.  I think this aspect speaks strongly to my desire to always find a sliver of hope in everything: an escape, a reminder, a moment of joy.

What do you imagine the apocalypse is like? How would you want to die?  

Even though it’s a terrible movie, I always loved the premise of The Happening. In it, plant life develops an airborne toxin that causes humans to commit suicide. 

In this version of the apocalypse, instead of an airborne toxin, all plants and trees develop a taste for human blood and devour all of humanity in a few days. I wouldn’t want it to last too long because it sounds horrific. 

In this scenario, I’d prefer to be gently leaning onto and then very suddenly be absorbed into Bald Cypress. Though, I hope I’m the first to go because I’m way too soft to actually witness any of this.

If you could only watch three films for the rest of your life, what would they be?  

This one’s too hard but okay: Beetlejuice, Cairo Station, and Chungking Express.

Where do you find inspiration lately?

Lately, I’ve been screenwriting and studying storytelling. It’s been really energizing and it’s changing the way I think about poetry. I’ve always been inspired by what I feel most challenged by so right now, I’m learning to tell stories through narrative and the three act structure rather than through emotion and musicality.  It’s really hard but the creative payoff is huge.

Where did you write most of your book? 

The majority of the book was written in Philadelphia, and three of the poems were written in Keene Valley, NY during a residency with Paul Smith College of the Adirondacks.

What was something surprised you recently?

I recently learned that a placebo can still have a positive effect on someone even if they know it’s a placebo which I thought was so fascinating.

What do you carry with you at all times?   

A piece of mica from Clark Park in West Philly.

Tell us a bit about your writing process. What works and what doesn't? What doesn't, but you keep trying it anyway?

I’ve always been self conscious about how little I produce but I’ve slowly come to understand over the years that I don’t write unless I feel compelled to.  

I can meditate on a poem for days before actually writing it. I’m obsessed with subjectivity (as a concept and with my own) and I feel most compelled to write when I’m in a state of deep introspection. I’ll meditate on an idea for days and when a poem finally comes, I’ll spend eight months editing it to death. I have some poems that have gone through 30-40 different drafts. The biggest challenge for me is to write a poem, edit once, then twice, and be done with it. The poem is done after the second edit. It has to be. 

One of my favorite mantras comes from the teachings of J. Krishnamurti: Observe your confusion. Study it. 

For me, what works is writing about something that scares me about myself.  At the present moment, I’m most interested in examining how I’m complicit in, even though I protest against, the deconstruction of the natural world. I’m attracted to hypocrisy as a theme and find it really difficult to write without relying on tropes. 

What doesn’t work for me is sitting down and saying “I’m going to write a poem.” The compulsion to write is an integral part of the process. Without it, ideas just don’t come. 

What are some of your daily rituals or routines?  

Birdwatching and drinking coffee is my favorite daily ritual because I like to pretend I’m retired even though I’ll probably be working for the rest of my life. (: 

What was the hardest part about writing this book?

Honestly, when Angelo invited me to publish with Empty Set, I already had these poems ready. They span the length of nearly a decade and I had already performed them dozens of times. These are the poems of my 20s. 

Now, that I’m in my 30s and working on a new collection, one that is intentionally thematically linked and far more narrative, I think the obstacle I keep coming up against is the question of whether or not each of the poems is building on the last or if the poems are merely reiterating the same ideas. 

copy/body is as a book is a collage: the poems are linked by their musicality, language play, and loose themes of domesticity. The current book I’m working on is much more intentionally themed and though there are individual pieces, the book is designed to be read as one long poem.

Ultimately, the hardest part of writing copy/body was finding the time to write and the hardest part about having time to write is actually writing. But maybe that’s the case for everything.

Define happiness for you. 

The silence of a desert.

Maryan Nagy Captan is an experimental writer, educator, and performance poet based in Austin, Texas. She is a Fellow at The Michener Center for Writers and serves as the Marketing Director for Bat City Review. Maryan is the author of copy/body (Empty Set Press, 2017) and an alumna of the Disquiet International Literary Program. Her work has appeared in or is forthcoming in The Egyptian Writers Folio (Anomaly Press), Foundry, AJAR, Apiary Magazine, Mantra Review, Boneless/Skinless, Sundog Lit, and elsewhere.

Joanna C. Valente is a human who lives in Brooklyn, New York. They are the author of Sirs & Madams, The Gods Are Dead, Marys of the Sea, Sexting Ghosts, Xenos, No(body), #Survivor, (forthcoming, The Operating System), and is the editor of A Shadow Map: Writing by Survivors of Sexual Assault. They received their MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College. Joanna is the founder of Yes Poetry and the senior managing editor for Luna Luna Magazine. Some of their writing has appeared in The Rumpus, Them, Brooklyn Magazine, BUST, and elsewhere. Joanna also leads workshops at Brooklyn Poets. joannavalente.com / Twitter: @joannasaid / IG: joannacvalente / FB: joannacvalente

[yespoetry]

Your January 2020 Horoscope Is Here (with Poetry Recs!)

By Joanna C. Valente

2020 is here: new decade, new year, new you, am I right? The first lunar eclipse (and full moon) is on January 10 in Cancer, which means we are all about our deepest feelings and emotions right now. It’s time to focus on your needs and wants, rather than push them aside for later.

Then on January 20, the Sun moves into Aquarius, bringing out our idealistic and true selves, moving us into a space where we can truly become and fight for our values. The new moon on Jan 24, also in Aquarius, is the perfect time to hone in on your goals; 2020 is going to be a big year, and a year that calls us to get rid of what isn’t working.

Capricorn

It’s time to set a financial plan for this year, for your health, your mind, and your body. Stability isn’t something to laugh at.

Poetry rec: Leza Cantoral

Aquarius

You’ve been feeling dissatisfied with your career and focus in life for longer than you’d like to admit. It’s time to think about how to transition into a life you really want. What we do doesn’t entirely define us, but it can define our days.

Poetry rec: Umang Kalra

Pisces

Be honest about your needs, wants, and boundaries. If you feel like your needs aren’t being met, that you aren’t being seen for who you are, or aren’t getting what you deserve, ask for it. Speak up. If you don’t, nothing will ever change.

Poetry rec: Elizabeth Kolenda

Aries

Work has been ruling your life lately. It seems like that whole work/life balance thing hasn’t really been a balance. Retake your personal life back and set boundaries. You might have to have some uncomfortable conversations, but your mental health is worth it.

Poetry rec: Teddy L. Friedline

Taurus

Has your romantic and/or personal life taken a hit? Have you been neglecting it? Treat yourself this month in some way, big or small, whether it’s a weekend away, a spa day, a movie night, or scheduling in a date. You matter. Life isn’t all work.

Poetry rec: Anthony AW

Gemini

This month is all about partnerships for you, and these partnerships are going to change your life and set future foundations. Make sure you and your partner(s) communicate honestly and effectively, because this isn’t a game.

Poetry rec: Constantine Jones

Cancer

It seems you have been clashing with your partner and/or close friends. Have you been keeping your opinions to yourself to please others? Putting others ahead of your own needs? It’s time to have some deep and truthful conversations; you can’t hide forever.

Poetry rec: Maryan Nagy Captan

Leo

Organization is your game this month. This applies to all aspects of your life. It isn’t that anything is “wrong” but this fresh start is a good time to figure out how to attain what you want, and freshen up your living space.

Poetry rec: Stephanie Valente

Virgo

Set healthy routines with yourself and others. You feel lonely lately, and that’s OK, but it does indicate that you need to set some regular friend dates - and activities that keep you feeling whole.

Poetry rec: Angelo Colavita

Libra

This is a particularly social month for you. Let yourself be open to all possibilities, whether with new friends or partners, or deepening your relationships with the people around you.

Poetry rec: Angelo Colavita

Scorpio

Be careful about your ego. While you are a highly creative and intensely present person, watch your ambitions and motives. Not everything is about you. That being said, looking outside yourself can allow you to form better bonds.

Poetry rec: Valerie Hsiung

Sagittarius 

You are full of light and love this month - and want to spread this around to others. You are your best when you want to make others happy, while also making yourself happy. Just make sure to ground yourself and do emotional check-in’s, so as not to ignore your own needs. What kind of home are you making? That will determine your entire year.

Poetry rec: Stephanie Kaylor

Joanna C. Valente is a human who lives in Brooklyn, New York. They are the author of Sirs & Madams, The Gods Are Dead, Marys of the Sea, Sexting Ghosts, Xenos, No(body), #Survivor, (forthcoming, The Operating System), and is the editor of A Shadow Map: Writing by Survivors of Sexual Assault. They received their MFA in writing at Sarah Lawrence College. Joanna is the founder of Yes Poetry and the senior managing editor for Luna Luna Magazine. Some of their writing has appeared in The Rumpus, Them, Brooklyn Magazine, BUST, and elsewhere. Joanna also leads workshops at Brooklyn Poets. joannavalente.com / Twitter: @joannasaid / IG: joannacvalente / FB: joannacvalente

[yespoetry]

Here's What Resonated with You in 2019

While we don't believe in best of lists, we went through our content over the past year and saw what resonated most with you, our readers, across our different genres and sections. Here's what you loved:

Photography: Joanna Valente - “The #SURVIVOR Photo Series Explores What It Looks Like to Survive Trauma”

Fiction: Alex Z. Salinas - “The Savage Screwball”

“Mom stayed quiet for a few seconds.

“I know, mijo,” she said softly. “I know. But me and Lance—”

I hung up on her. It wasn’t that Lance was white—he was—or that he’d become Mom’s boyfriend six months after Dad’s heart attack. It was his predilection to butt into our family affairs, give his two-and-a-half cents when we were good on the money. Lance wasn’t a bad guy, I don’t think, but that didn’t mean I didn’t think him a snake slithering on my property. White people, like snakes, have no propriety when it comes to death and property.

I pictured myself stomping on a snake’s head then sipped my black coffee. It was now lukewarm. It had lost its desired effect—to burn my tongue.

I went back to my book. I read a sentence six times over. I couldn’t comprehend it for the life of me. Bolaño wasn’t Balzac, but I might as well have been blind.

I put the book down again and closed my eyes. I focused in on the song playing in the back. “Maria Maria” by Carlos Santana. I started bobbing my head and was immediately brought back to middle school football, being on bus rides with the boys. Falling asleep, drooling.”

#MeToo Series: Vivien Yap - “Muscle Memory”

“When he reaches out,

I think of science,

I think of you.

Intimacy / Power / Relief

 For when a human flexes his arm,

he hardens,

for someone else to yield.”

Chapbook: Haunted: Tarot Poems

Music: You Need This Queer Playlist in Your Life

Poet of the Month series - Kate Leah Hewett: October 2019 Poet of the Month

“we keep going

because we have places to be today

and errands don’t stop for seeping regret”

Essay: Stephanie Valente - “Guide to Writing Poetry Spells”

“Poems are magic. Reading a good, no great, poem is a certain time of magic. The words wrap and weave around you all on their own. It's infatuating, syrupy, and even intoxicating. It's a bit of glamour for our spirit. It's as if you are enchanted by just mere words.

In fact, poems are so powerful that they transcend ordinary life into something a little bit more. Poems are art. Poems are truth. Poems are fantasies. Poems are wishes. Poems are daydreams. Poems are manifestations. Poems are mantras. Poems are healing. Poems are spells. So, why not write your own spell? A spell that sounds like, acts like, and there fore becomes a poem?

Weave magic in your everyday life with a personal poem. Cast a spell with a poem. Cover your poem with intentions and sigils. Shout it from the rooftops. Or, tuck your poem into a tiny piece of paper and keep it underneath your clothes, or maybe, even in a locket. How sublime is that? Totally sublime. And, completely entrenched in your own personal power. That's magic.“

Poetry: Andrew Hahn: A Faggot Learns to Be Christ-Like

“they need all of me

all at once     bc my body is the temple & the light

 my pussy is their prayer

my body     my heart     my church doors     throb from man’s desire

 i told them not to worry about hurting me

a good boy sacrifices his body”

Interview: Maryan Nagy Captan

“For the past few years, I’ve been enamored with the work of Julie Speed, an oil painter and collage artist based in Marfa, TX. My current favorite piece is titled “Eyes to See.” How does it describe me? I like to think that I am both figures in this painting. As a writer and performance poet, I get self conscious about overwriting or being too insistent in the work. As a reader and citizen of the world, I sometimes feel overwhelmed by the amount of information and insight that we’re expected to consume regularly. It can be suffocating. 

However, behind all the chaos of humanity is a bird and a tree and an open window.  I think this aspect speaks strongly to my desire to always find a sliver of hope in everything: an escape, a reminder, a moment of joy.”

Writing Prompts: Use Fantasies and Dreams

Review: Angelo Colavita - “Called into Question: A Review of Samantha Giles’ ‘Total Recall’”

“I moved through this book carefully, light-footed, as though convinced that any sudden movement would wake a sleeping monster, and as I did so I realized the genius behind Giles’ writing: she writes as though she does not have to convince us of anything. Instead, through her prose and deliberate, gradual revelations (and sometimes redactions) of information, she creates within the reader the same self-doubt the narrator experiences. We are convinced of the narrative’s actuality by mode of our own empathy. We experience the same silencing fear running astride a craving for justice. We are at once the helpless victim, the horrified voyeur, and, what’s more unsettling, the violator.

To lose yourself in this book is to bear witness, firsthand, to the victim’s struggle with truth and with self. When what the mind is capable of recalling is called into question by even the speaker herself, we feel violated. This is not a game the author plays, but a necessary deception. After all, our memory, as a function of the mind, defines our identity, composes our history. What are we at all if not products of our minds?”

Art: Kerry Rawlinson

Wellness: Joanna C. Valente - “8 Things That Might Make You Happier & Get You Off the Internet”

“Schedule phone dates with friends

In an effort to get away from the internet, I try to talk on the phone more with friends. Because of schedules and location, it’s not always possible to hang out in person, but phones (especially video chatting) can be a great way to connect with someone and be present, even if just for five minutes.

Making ourselves available and mindful is how we can stay in touch and maintain our relationships. We don’t need epic catch ups; rather, I try to think of it this way: If I can’t find a few minutes for someone, what am I doing that’s so important? Why not?”

[thebodyinparts]

NECTAR : an ekphrastic collaboration between collage artist william lukas & poet maryan nagy captan. six new collages / six new poems / one online zine.

this project is a companion to the chapbook i'll be releasing with Empty Set Press on june 17th. stay tuned for details!