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Digital Library of South Dakota

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  • All fields: 8.0.1r30
(167 results)



Display: 20

    • Self-portrait in a 1970s gold-veined mirror tile

    • Artistic collaboration
    • The way she posed herself, lying on her mother’s closet floor, fingertips of her left hand resting against the looking glass just so, as if the veins of gold were tributaries tracing back to the same source. Her wrist emerges from the lower left...
    • On returning

    • Artistic collaboration
    • "then there's a dim / smell of moose, an acrid / smell of gasoline" - Elizabeth Bishop. Forget all metaphors. Fear drove me back there. On my first night back in town, I cross an empty church lot, the true clear air an approximation of significance...
    • Author bio - draft #22

    • Artistic collaboration
    • As the author of a collection of dream sequences which she can only remember the first minute after waking, she spends most of her time recovering. With an old 35 mm , she maintains a constant orbit of observation, a heavenly body concerned with...
    • There was a dusky toad with bumps

    • Artistic collaboration
    • On his back and we laughed like old friends on picnic gingham. I cupped him in my palm and said please be my protector and he promised with a wide-mouthed fingertip kiss. He hopped to the earth rolled amongst the pebbles and moss like a dog in...
    • Your cave

    • Artistic collaboration
    • I am playing a game with you You will text me and call me And I will not pick up This game is called Guess Why Turns out there’s a cave of black crystal inside your television Thick gloom and shock sound and all sorts of trouble But when I say...
    • Body worn open, whorling in ceremony

    • Artistic collaboration
    • i. Blackout, 1990 My grandfather’s neurons are ferrying the story of his body across dark water. But let’s begin with citronella candles, mosquitos haunting his bled martini glass. Jags of heat-whelmed ice too sultry not to thieve through the...
    • Insular no. 2

    • Artistic collaboration
    • This is my soul plastered Inside out Here it is (i whisper) And i hold out my crippled hands where IT lies bleeding (Beating)
    • Dabbled devoir

    • Artistic collaboration
    • Speaking clouds Amongst a divine Gift of darkness Crested with history fortress fleeting forest Forbidden or forgotten grasp not the past Cursed memories bitter blues reflecting greens Formidable foes take over time time again Arches of riches...
    • Self-portrait as body dysmorphia

    • Artistic collaboration
    • I have never bawled as hard as I did when I saw my body for the battered child that it was. This incarnation is too much for me. This skin itches. This skin aches. I would rather peel myself off fingertip by fingertip, step out into new flesh,...
    • Today

    • Artistic collaboration
    • Let's talk grackles. Some street birds are tougher than others, and when I'm outside, most of them don't even notice if I'm smiling.
    • We strolled in our secret garden, boy

    • Artistic collaboration
    • by the barn crumbling in autumn brown and wine. the wood smelled like under moss. thunder creaked the decay. the prairie hissed as it curled up tight. we raced the swell, long arms of darkness stretching to gulp us. the sky turned sea and reef, the...
    • Burden

    • Artistic collaboration
    • I yearn for symbiosis, but feel like a parasite. What can I bring to the table? Easily I am swept away, into a sea of dark thoughts. Running scared, but only in my mind. The internal marathon, racing thoughts, are exhausting. I struggle to close my...
    • Second amendment

    • Artistic collaboration
    • A girl is a gun, her eyes winking bullets. Do not be fooled by her red soaked lips. They are red from prying out alloy casings with her teeth. Holes do not stop her. She keeps her pistol tucked inside the wound left when they made her. A piece of...
    • Tiny branches

    • Artistic collaboration
    • Some surface chips away every time my heart breaks Pale skin and deep set eyes I travel back through your crows feet Wrinkles to veins and veins to branches, I fall to flecks of deep blue - yet I re-emerge pitted and pieced together I rise and fold...

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