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Digital Library of South Dakota

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  • All fields: Kessler, Teniesha
(14 results)



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    • Will

    • Artistic collaboration
    • When I die, plaster my face with a mask of leaves; smear my lips with red berry paste; and place butterflies over my eyes so that their wings can flutter like my eyelashes did, and so that, when I turn into Earth
    • Berries

    • Artistic collaboration
    • Red berry underfoot, burst, plop, juices gushing forth and squished by sole into the sidewalk, bloodied now by soulful excretion of fruity eggs cracked and splattered across a cement skillet seared by the sun; or trampled by feet into waves of...
    • 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,...
    • 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...
    • Spirit jacket

    • Artistic collaboration
    • Each fetus wears a crimson jacket, the Hmong people say, translated as "placenta," soul threads woven by genetic intertwining of egg and sperm, double helix stitches from blooming brain to little, wiggling toe imprints in Mama's stomach. When I was...
    • We're living on Mars!

    • Artistic collaboration
    • When there’s a twenty-minute time lag between I love you and I love you too or I don’t love you at all or Did you remember to turn off the space stove? We are inside time in the canyonlands of coupledom where matches take twenty minutes to burn...
    • One, two, three, four little ponies

    • Artistic collaboration
    • The black one reaches, lean and hard over barbed wire fence curved, his neck bulge of muscle. His teeth, ivory, chewing what still grows - we boarders of the dust bowl. Hikers drinking upon a river, clear to the eye, smell like cloud forest....

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