By Migueltzinta Cah Mai Solís Pino Gender, the garment, has been tailored. But does it know the body like spandex? Is it a pair of jeans—machined, carved in that way, its fibers dilating and contracting as demanded? Or possibly the gender garment is a knit tube sock—a strange color, loose in places? A tiny knot in a corner and, otherwise, seamless. Really, a body, a gender, a self-presentation that is seamless is like nothing else. It is owned—yes, with a little help, I made this. Where are the seams? You marvel aloud. Show them to me, highlight them, use this laser pointer, show me where to touch that I may feel with my fingertips where they hid the seams. Make the distinction known between this decision and that moment. When did you know? When did you become…? What was the moment when woman became man, dyke became queen, marimacha became maricón? I’d say the moment was when that man got into his pickup truck, while, broom in my hand, I watched him through one-way glass. That was in late 2010, in rural Oaxaca; the sky blue with rain, but the earth dry and split open in places. A thief, I stole... Read More

By Aimee Herman replace body with round of applause slap deportation of immunized bones draw map of grade nine depression sloppy kiss cartographer for compass brand benefactors & advertisements into forearms non–narrate the spaces of gender utilize humor when categorizing medicinal habits call framework pre–Reconstruction index teeth as artifacts due to lack of care belly is a sanctuary of bent laws how paradoxical is this panic what border are your shoulders crossing hybrid outcasts called lips territories or terrorists problematize the concept of veins mixed–media thighs decolonize wounds what is the occupation of this anatomy invent inventory for what is missing does this morning breath perplex what is the chosen medium can this blood be a contribution gift pulsate sweat into curved signature [it may be possible to] alienate audience enforce live ritual of dramatized history curators will fill in gaps of forced memory record visceral reaction onto comment cards photograph face interrupting art exercise risk through prohibited camera flash embody theory of missed communications or anthropologized dysfunction

by Patrick Rosal The Halo-Halo Men: An Anthem We are the halo-halo men the mix-mix men the fresh-cut- mango-in-your-mouth men The men who pee-pee in your Coke The joke that yokes the beasts of vinyl and diamond men The bit-of-salt-to-cut-the-ice men The wineskins-without-wine blunt-hilt-of-the-bolo-to-your-head men We are the how-how men the carabao men back-to-ten men Pen-pen men de sarapen de-kutsilyo men de-alamasen The when men Come-again men The middle man and omega men You build fences for we might steal your hen men Kimat and Pang-or men First to suicide in the cypher men We use our inside voices for an outside fight men say three Hail Mary’s and whisper Hallelujah flip the new testament like we do judo men vodou men raw blood and garlic men kilawen men I say ag-yaman ak you say A-   Kundiman: Hung Justice Love, a child dreamt hard of bread and got history instead. Someone dreamt of maggots jeweled in meat and brought out blades in the name of good science, ardor. But who’ll list kinships in English between slaughter and laughter? Who’ll recruit heaven’s splendid refuse, junk, our silent brigades of busted blue-black horns, swordless squadrons, the hum and ruckus of strung-up... Read More