Author Archives: istsfor manity

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About istsfor manity

i'm a truncated word-person looking for an assemblage of extracted teeth in a tent full of mosquitoes (and currently writing a novel without writing a novel word) and pulling nothing but the difficult out of the top hat while the bunny munches grass in the hallway. you might say: i’m thee asynchronous voice over in search of a film....

white as death

Agonal Haiku Snow falls white as death Fumes exhaust the dying earth Black rime limns the ice “it’s a question of power which we must wield if it is not to be wielded against us” — Nikki Giovanni / “Love … Continue reading →

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hash mark clusters (redux)

Notebooks She hated blank pages like she hated the blankness of her life. So she began by making marks – large, loose, gestural sweeps on the page. She then shifted from elongated serpentines to dense clusters of hash marks on … Continue reading →

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poorer version of

Bitter Usually as a sacrilege, I stood on my head and peed into my own mouth as a chimpanzee might on bikini night promotionals. There are jobs — and then there are the odd messes of oddnesses. Working two jobs … Continue reading →

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mosquitos and gnats

Muzzy Always the muzz of mosquitos and gnats about our heads. Blurs of barbaric pantaloons held in sanguine suasion and selective editing of those who would never fit the guidelines established by the groaning masses of under effect. Pleased to … Continue reading →

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unseen film screens

Lean Times When I tire I sleep on a patch of rocks where our library once stood. Early the next day I walk back to the complex — to my cell smelling of urine and fear. I love my little … Continue reading →

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a faded revolution

Lost I am lost… … like the grandfather who lost his leg to photochemical exposures —  cursing at a faded revolution. … like the grandmother who lost her fight with (de) mentia and her superego — cursing at her nurse about … Continue reading →

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explode all canons

Overheard at the IHOP… … I once had my foreskin tossed in the food processor by a moyle who didn’t know how to spell mohel. Unfortunately I was still attached to said foreskin and that’s why I’m called “French Tickler … Continue reading →

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50 million faults

plagues caused a future of fragments 50 million faults What I’m Reading, or: What I Just Finished Reading (a continuing series) Dear Ijeawele, or a Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions / Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie (2017) A slim book length essay … Continue reading →

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disappear in plain sight

Identity Piece in Reconstruction Now you see me now you don’t. I’m lost to myself. Even I can’t see me. Where do I come from? We came from Cuba. We came from Spain. And I can’t track my family back … Continue reading →

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someone is writing us

It’s a Family Affair I. He took off his shoes and the right pinkie was exposed — nude, malformed, and smelling like gruyere cheese from six feet away. A couple of wiry hairs arcing over the sock. She, on the … Continue reading →

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