by JD Scott Validator [There is going to be a suit you will wear while you read this poem. Please make sure you say your own name aloud at each instance you put on this suit. This it vital. Saying your own name is a prerequisite for feeling validated. Please log into AOL at this time.] WELCOME: in this artificial garden of regressed desire which bird of paradise will come to life and squawk? [HAHAHA] First comment! Such mouthiness! ENTER Spam Paradiso, mâché’d with the debris of language! Which herby tincture will gift the youth? Like totally “alkali earth metal” BBQ rib plunged into Eve not Adam&Steve / Such verbosity! / Sugary XXX / “A pseudo-intellectual twattiness for the 100% f’real patriot” / Which pixel of neon will pop as apple pie, fragma firework, which binary string will verify me? / Upload me / Check my code against yours / Youz youz youz / so 1% / so #1 / so 1.0 / so ephebophile and “50 States Baby Diary Lover” / Legs kicking in the air all BDSM slave:master ratio / handcuffs & super kawaii police brutality & haute couture death penalty / The millionvoice says, “Validate me.” /... Read More

Devin Kenny “long.live.a$ap rocky cover a capella”, 2013. Single-Channel Video “Untitled/Clefa”, 2013. Performance with Audio: A performative reinterpretation of the short-lived meme, Trayvoning (named after Trayvon Martin), which circulated through a variety of message boards and social networks. Here the artist collapses forward, and the ensuing explosion of Skittles and Arizona Iced Tea droplets proliferate. The duration of the performance is set by playing Migos featuring Drake’s “Versace Versace” song four times in immediate succession.

by Ladan Osman That Which Scatters and Breaks Apart Everywhere they turn, the walls ask, why, why not. From every space someone calls a question and there echoes so many answers, it’s impossible to hear. Save me, he calls. Open me, she calls. Divorce me. Their despair is a bird in an abandoned nest, its brother has jumped out and died, its sister is dying beside it and still it perches: Do I fly? Can I fly? You’re here because you said, I hate you instead of, I’m sorry. You’re here because you couldn’t forgive but kept on making stews and hand-washing his good socks, blowing curses into hot water.   Trouble I have a chill in my womb. I have a child in my wound. Everything is massed up. The sea doesn’t blow. The wind rivers the sea in the wrong direction. How will I get along with this man wolfing me? How will I get alone? He herd me. It never bordered me before, what I got as a regard. We used the hardest language. We cast threats. We’ll born in hell. Some of us fall by the waistside and some of us sore to the stars.