Tag: journals
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“[D]on’t be precious.”: Q & A With Candice Louisa Daquin, our 2022 ROAR Showcase Finale
“[D]on’t be precious.”: Q & A With Candice Louisa Daquin Q. What is your earliest memory of poetry? A: I have a very bad memory of early years but I do remember the poem “Small Hands” by Walt Whitman* being spoken in a Woody Allen movie and me being really deeply affected. I think it…
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Day Seven, ROAR Showcase: Absolution by Candice Louisa Daquin
Absolution I don’t know if there’s hope When friend turns foe I don’t know Where in separation Yoke and embryo Glistening placenta gouache The painter may Render this potential life Legacy of strife In verdant whisker I could have been born Elsewhere or not Chemistry. cellular change Alchemists with tears as coat of arms We…
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Day Six, ROAR Showcase: For my first friend in America by Candice Louisa Daquin
For my first friend in America Your hand covers mine we pose for the camera and smile a 100 watt smile The American Way since immigrating here, I have learned how to park a truck discovered that shorts are not as anathema in Texas as in Cannes I understand, ordering drinks you size up, trying…
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Day Five, ROAR Showcase: What kind of lesbian would I be if I were born today by Candice Louisa Daquin
What kind of lesbian would I be if I were born today I see your pictures on social media a part of me is envious of your freedom even though women many years before either of us had absolutely no freedom and only those with enough money could consider taking a woman as their lover…
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Day Four, ROAR Showcase: The Abortionist’s Chair by Candice Louisa Daquin
The Abortionist’s Chair Behold the abortionist’s chair not leather, for leather is thirsty this chair is wreathed in glossy rubber that can be wiped down and disinfected to mute the smell of blood this chair does not owe its shape to comfort, nor seeks it nay, the very contour is built upon a premise bringing…
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Day One, ROAR Showcase: Amulet by Candice Louisa Daquin
Amulet No they didn’t write poems about you and they didn’t write poems about me they didn’t write poems about us we were a label, a provocation, pornography perhaps sometimes a curse, misfortune something to deride in that lazy way people who find it amusing to poke fun, do I imagine them now sipping on…
