I. Pre-
It’s been hard not to think about the cosmos lately.
Last month’s solar equinox marked one of two moments in a year where the Sun crosses our equator, its plane passing through the geometric center of the Sun’s disk. I’m still trying to parse out meaning in real-time out of this astronomical event—of course Googling it and (after seeing the first results be references to the gym chain) ending up on the dense Wikipedia entry. My head spins with my only cursory knowledge of astronomy and, frankly, geometry as I keep reading. The entry continues to explain that the equinox is a moment where we are tilting neither toward or away from the Sun, and that it comes from the Latin words for “equal” and “night.”
This moment of equilibrium had many asterisks after it:
On the day of an equinox, daytime and nighttime are of approximately equal duration all over the planet. They are not exactly equal, however, because of the angular size of the Sun, atmospheric refraction, and the rapidly changing duration of the length of day that occurs at most latitudes around the equinoxes
Indeed, even when eveness is at a cosmic scale there’s qualifiers or at the very least complexity. The entry continues to note the inexactness of the equinox, including why the sunset/sunrise times are not exact around the world during it.
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A few weeks ago, I, along with everyone, looked up at the eclipse at Green-Wood Cemetery atop a blanket beneath a blooming tree. Even short glimpses through dark glasses made my eyes tired for the rest of the day. “Why do my eyes hurt,” everyone searched. I was generally unsettled afterwards—nausea, stomach ache, need for naps—but how could one not be?
II. Post-fare
This week marks the one year anniversary of my first book This is your receipt and is not a ticket for travel, which, thanks to your support, recently sold out. Fittingly, I spent the day of the anniversary on several trains, subways, and cars between here and Connecticut.
To mark the occasion, I’m releasing a limited edition zine version of “fare,” the poem that is both the literal and metaphorical center of the book. In preparing to read at Cyrée Jarelle Johnson’s launch at BGSQD (check out his brilliant new book Nighwatch), I was moved to write new stanzas detailing the recent deployment of National Guard members on the subway by the Governor and artists interventions in solidarity with Palestine that replaced the ads which envelop each cars. I’m thrilled to be working with the brilliant Rodrigo Moreira on design and include two photos by Jenna Hamed also featured in the original book.
In this process, one year later and under the context of genocide and a continued pandemic, I’ve been thinking a lot about movement and refusal. The poem begins “moving across lines should be free, of course / all should be able to travel if they need, or want” and what’s implied is not just commutes, not just migration, but the urgent right of autonomy denied to so many by so many. I write about fare evasion, including a strategy called “stuff and suck,” where passengers would stuff token slots to have them get stuck so that they could suck them out with their mouth afterwards. To prevent this, staff or police were known to sprinkle chili powder or spray mace on the slots. Long live every act of refusal, opacity, and boycott!
Poetry is nothing if not positioned towards solidarity. The proceeds from the zine will benefit two efforts providing essential support to the people of Gaza. April zine proceeds will go to Huda Saud’s GoFund Me and will be distributed at the end of the month. All other proceeds will go to Heal Palestine, distributed monthly or at the end of the run.
Here is a short request form if you are interested in copy ($5-7 sliding scale), and I’ll have some at tomorrow’s exquisites market at Polly’s Cafe, come say hi!
If you are in Connecticut, I will also be part of the Just Kin Reading Series in Hartford on Saturday, May 11th, in conversation with varun khattar sharma.
III. Re-Post
I’m thrilled to share that I’m part of the 2024 NYC Poets Afloat Residency, organized by Brad Vogel. I’ve been spending time writing on the Lehigh Valley 79 (also known as the Waterfront Museum) and this summer will be part of public readings:
Manhattan Reading aboard Wavertree: May 19, 2-4 pm
Brooklyn Reading aboard Mary Whalen: June 12, 6:30-8:30 pm.
The Long Poem Support Group continues! This month we’re reading the book that inspired it, Laura Hendrickson’s Laura’s Desires (Nightboat, 2024), with a guest appearance from the author. Send me a note if you’d like to join every/any fourth Saturday 10 am-12 pm EST!
On Monday, April 29th 7-19 CST/ 8-10 EST I’ll be DJing on Zoom to support a fundraiser and auction for Seraj, organized by the wonderful Sky Cubacub of Rebirth Garments. Tickets and more details here. Join us!
Lastly, a poem by James Pearson, reposted by adrienne maree brown recently:
This Spring
How can I love this spring
when it’s pulling me
through my life faster
than any time before it?
When five separate dooms
are promised this decade
and here I am, just trying
to watch a bumblebee cling
to its first purple flower.
I cannot save this world.
But look how it’s trying,
once again, to save me.
With care,
d