Empires of the Sun

Stuart Krimko

Restitution, or the formality of giving back, these words
cannot be the ones I intended them to be, when I woke
or while I slept. But there are others that return this sense
of economy to the one who speaks them: there are others,
verdant and valiant and
vibrant. It’s the vibrant ones you’re supposed to want.
But what about the boring choristers who look in the mirror
and move their mouths but don’t actually sing?
The vessels of an empty Bible, burned to the gut
and giving their all, which isn’t
Which isn’t much at all? I don’t know about them
and don’t care, but I do because I ask, so I’m confused.
Carelessly lost in my own whispering forest,
where the leaves take on the shape of
emotional wanderlusts, societies of veins
and valueless societies burn in the entire
conflagration of one match reaching for arson.
I was happy to be done with that place, no matter
what some bluebirds thought, or Bambi and his bright
judge of a mother. Was Bambi gendered? Was there
a gallant way to burn the forest, like the
war-loving troops in Avatar? There was, the simple answer,
the one that comes with a smile. Do you see each
of those extra words, to bend back on oneself like like,
like the word in a museum glass? Groaning, gladly
follow me into the
anthropologist’s chamber, Sigourney Weaver’s virtual office,
where we all turn blue and bleed
an uncommon ecology. I was bobbing back
and forth in my chair earlier this evening, drunk on
too little and falling in love with the idea of sleep:
not sleep itself,
which was too far off, but the image of my two
eyes shut against a world waking would be proud of,
one that spun against two blimps by the dateline,
a pharmaceutical world I could not resist. So I took the pills
and pretended the sun 
was no longer a clock of a star.


Letter to a wanderer through the city of the instant
Drew Burk

The Alley
Adam Caillier

Breeding Ground
Amy Thielen

I would have no pubes if I were truly in love
Jenny Zhang

Reviewed by Jonathan Thomas

The Problem With The Destruction Of Art Is That It Preserves Too Much
Daniel Spaulding

Jacob’s Ladder on Lined Paper
David Goldes

Empire of the Sun
Stuart Krimko

Empire of Rain
Jacques Rancière

Plein Air Dans La Nuit
John Riepenhoff

Orderly Outsider
Alex Waterman

Ulrich Seidl
Interviewed by Jonathan Thomas

Instagram as Non-Photography
Mohammad Salemy

Sentences on Photography
Torbjørn Rødland

Center Spread
Torbjørn Rødland

Body as Techno Base

Studio Visit
Stuart Krimko

On the Way to Hillary Harnischfeger’s Studio
David Norr

Stuart Argabright
Interviewed by
Chris Hontos

Adam Caillier

On Steve Holmgren and Matt Porterfield
Kathie Smith

On Pedagogy, Countercultures, and the Theory of Utopia
Stephen Duncombe and Sam Gould

The Duck
Mark A. Rodriguez

It was a period when cunt was in the air
Jenny Zhang

Celebrating the New Dark Age
David Geers

Song for The Boy We Almost Ran Over
Steve Healey

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