Every now and then, a wisp of memory invades that foggy space between sleep and waking in the middle of the night.
Resistance, as the Wobblies used to say, should be the polite response to oppression.
Almost like a badua, the lyrics to the title track from Tranie Tronic’s latest album are saturated with power.
He was the loneliest man on earth. His words were not even listened to by anyone.
Zamudio can share her vision of life—fluid like a dream, deep like blood.
Why did a hip-hop artist suddenly become a threat who had to be arrested in order to be silenced?
The balm of Appalachia, the comfort of all the neighbours knowing my business -- how did it all go so wrong?
The spontaneity of painting “natural” or “ordinary” landscapes is deeply embedded in my neurons.
Who gets to say what “Pakistaniness” is?
They say we should get over our grief in a year, like a light switch, turning on, turning off. But it doesn’t work like that.
I felt like there was no room to do things that were experimental and interesting and, at the end of the day, revolutionary, and that the community sector was essentially there to just patch up things for the government.
Behind every Palestinian life taken
is the kinetic force of a thread-link
snapped and the First Law of
Thermodynamics is always at play.
At 54 poems and less than 80 pages of text, you might be forgiven for assuming that Peter Taylor’s latest collection of poetry will be a fast read. You would be wrong.
