Why do guns continue to be better protected than people in this country? More than one mass shooting a day cannot be our new normal. Gun control should not be a partisan issue.
4/18/21
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And/Both Magazine
A lot of magic is going on behind the covers of And/Both Magazine.
I recently learned of them from a fellow artist who thought my multidisciplinary style could be a good match for this publication. I submitted work and was pleased to have a poem and painting accepted, but the real pleasure came upon receipt of the issue itself (#6, “inhale/exhale”).
There is breathtaking artistry in every detail of the magazine. Some entries of verse are printed on vellum, allowing for collaboration with the visual art that follows. Other entries are tucked in as bookmarks, which inspire further interaction as they follow your progress over different entries. Even a moveable arrow on one page and an embroidery ribbon weaving through another remind you that you too are an active participant in this experience.
As a result, And/Both becomes a beautiful celebration of diversity and community. Each piece resonantes with its own unique and complex perspective, but an open dialogue continually buzzes amongst them, building commonalities. It is an endeavor that proves particularly cathartic in this latest issue, which focuses on current events related to the pandemic and civil unrest and injustice in the United States.
For more information about And/Both Magazine and for purchase of their issues, visit their website: https://andbothmagazine.bigcartel.com/products
Rain Dance
As yearning Yields its last steps Circling the dust Drum in hand She arrives Girl Fawkes Christener of tin roofs Windshields Oak groves Cracked clay Beckoning all To drink in her cool Clean mirth Her resolve Her faith Until even The asphalt beams Under this Coat of Afterbirth -UEB
untitled
even as you pioneer far aboves and beyonds this quickening remains
Now Is the Time
Surfacing
All the little truths Tethered just under her breath Now rise in a song.
Expert Witness
She knew to wait for The opening of quiet That blooms before flight.
—–Original drawing and poem by Ursula Black.—–
Growing Pains
When I look at you
your eyes eclipsed
I wonder if you will
survive this molt.
Every night is an
abandoned bathtub
where your body is
found floating
orphaned by both
land and sky.
Every day sinks its
grieving hooks in
dragging us along
the precipices that
fall from your head
to line the rooms.
Dad and I have
emptied out the
medicine cabinet
and cutlery drawers.
All that is left to do
is to take turns
sleeping on
the extra bed
next to you
watching the skin
writhe and fall from
your frame
hoping there will still
be something of you
left somewhere
underneath.
A Suspension of Disbelief
Over three years of tyranny plus months of quarantine and This morning I am peering at it all through a windshield of ash. In an act of self-immolation, West Coast forests rage at us Impressing upon our lungs the growing rarity of another breath. When one man chooses to kneel on the neck of another What does it say of the altar, of our very faith? How to revere a raised flag as its colors bleed out on the ground? With the love of a mother. With the outrage of youth. With the hope of a child.
Sport it like RBG
