The Death of Henry Kissinger
Anything that flies, on anything that moves.
You got that?
Bubbles children blow toward the sky burst bombs into jasmines.
And a mother’s golden lotus bud orbiting her daughter’s neck?
In Takeo, at the edge of the forest, if the spot-billed duck were to lay an egg—
I take the R from 86th St to teach poetry
in Manhattan. My hands sweat
on Cruel Radiance. The front cover: photograph of a girl
the Khmer Rouge executed, one of many
children presumed counterrevolutionary enemies,
as the soiled descendants of such. My chest heaves. To everyone
on the train I do not say, All the sobbing inside of me,
all of it you know now! But you don’t know
what I am called! Aneakajun––traitor of my roots.
Instead, I catch the N across the platform, continue
reading about S-21. We were not inside
those prisons: they were. Our hells
almost certainly are not theirs. A white girl
with a streak of blue hair falls flat
on her back. Her head a bowling ball
close to my foot. Her head a bowling ball that rolls
on the floor. I look up
from reading cozy existential atmosphere (Adorno’s
words) and there, a white girl on the ground––
breathing, breathing. Breathing.
Someone call 911! Someone press the emergency button!
Someone pull the girl up! Now
she is sitting, telling someone she’s on her way
to 23rd St as the train screeches to my stop on 8th.
Doors open. I see how the distinction between
victim and executioner becomes blurred.
I want to cancel class. Because why? So I can sob
about the killing fields and how aneakajun feels?
I’d rather do that today. My head could be a bowling ball too.
I could fall over from this too.
* * *
Monica Sok is a Cambodian American poet and the daughter of former refugees. Her work has been recognized with a Discovery Prize from the 92nd Street Y Unterberg Poetry Center. She is the recipient of fellowships and residencies from Hedgebrook, the Elizabeth George Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts, Kundiman, Jerome Foundation, MacDowell Colony, Saltonstall Foundation, and others. Currently, Sok is a 2018–2020 Wallace Stegner Fellow at Stanford University and also teaches poetry at Banteay Srei in Oakland. Her book A Nail the Evening Hangs On is forthcoming from Copper Canyon Press in 2020.
“Our bodies are not that cheap,” said one Iraqi artist who signed an open letter to the biennale’s curators.
Museums will have to install “prominently placed” placards alongside the works, according to a new suite of laws signed by Governor Kathy Hochul.
Choose from over 140 courses for adults and youth ages 13 to 17, including options for beginning, intermediate, and advanced students. Enroll by August 23 for an early bird discount.
Scientists borrowed the ecological “unseen species” model to estimate how many works of medieval European literature have gone extinct.
As bodily autonomy and workers’ rights remain under constant and often intertwined threat, The Work of Love, the Queer of Labor reminds us of what is still at stake.
The Brooklyn organization is now accepting new project inquiries for its fee-based fabrication services in printmaking, ceramics, and large-scale public art.
The emphasis in Semmel’s retrospective Skin in the Game is on the various points of view she has taken on herself — and, briefly, on others too.
The artist and former SWAIA chief operating officer and executive director has found a stable of dedicated collectors and a close-knit community at Santa Fe Indian Market.
The Newark Museum of Art Presents Jazz Greats: Classic Photographs from the Bank of America Collection
Photographers Antony Armstrong Jones, Milt Hinton, Chuck Stewart, Barbara Morgan, and more capture a breadth of legendary and local musicians and performance artists. On view through August 21.
Each voice in This Long Thread intersects to reveal the collective chronicles, struggles, and triumphs of women of color in today’s craft landscape.
Works by the Abeyta family of artists encourage thinking beyond activism and legislation as a means for political progress.
Despite faithfully recreating the story of the beloved comic book series, the TV show lacks the verve of the original.