Perigee

Contributors: Issue 3

21 Apr 2015
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Letter from the Editor by Zinzi Clemmons Fiction Your Giant New Loft by James Yeh Ife Adigo Market–1978 by Chinelo Okparanta A Mindful World by Kaitlyn Greenidge First Time by Molly Giles Poetry Their Grandmothers Never Did the Laundry by Morgan Parker negro sunshine by Morgan Parker my sister breaks bread in the streets by Amber Atiya the bacon act by Claire Fornarola Confirmation by Eddie Martinez Learning the Language by Eddie Martinez Could be by James Ducat i wonder if heaven got a gay ghetto by Christopher Soto After the Japanese Footbridge at Giverny, ca 1922 II by Eva Saavedra The Lonely Crowded West by Nicholas Wright In Some Distant but not Too Distant Era by Nicholas Wright Sky Rescue by Mai Der Vang Diplomacy by Martin Ott Vick by Mitchell Grabois Complete Hysterectomy by Anna Wilkes stormy weather by Mahogany L. Browne Suppose You Were a Komodo Dragon by Cynthia Dewi Oka Nonfiction This is for All the Best Dancers at St. Bernadette’s by Stacy Parker Le Melle Seeing in Color: An Interview with Rich Benjamin by Melody Nixon Border Song by Adriana Ramirez From Asian American Masculinity (Part Two): Bondage and Liberation by David Mura Rumors: Remembering...
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Uncategorized

Apogee Issue 05 Launch!

20 Apr 2015
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Celebrate the work of our amazing Issue 05 contributors on Thursday, May 28 at Raw Space in Harlem! An evening of readings featuring Tommy Pico * Tiphanie Yanique * Lisa Ko * Emily Brandt * Charif Shanahan * Caitlin Blanchfield * Marisa Beltramini * t'ai freedom ford

Contributors: Issue 4

18 Apr 2015
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Issue 04 Masthead Acknowledgements Letter from the Editor by Chris Prioleau   Fiction Benton, Revisted by Koa Beck Old Maid by Annie Dewitt I Want Some Seafood Mama by Soleil Ho   Poetry In Defense Of Art by Aimee Herman A Common Amnesia by Alex Cuff Sea Psalm by Becca Liu Autoconstrucción & Objet Trouvé by Cristiana Baik Kisekae & Validator by JD Scott Epilogue by Julia Guez Foundation & Determination of Racial Affinity by Kenzie Allen _______ the usual old shoe still lifes in October, birds again & Miniature Odes by Khadijah Queen That Which Scatters and Breaks Apart & Trouble by Ladan Osman Changeling & Damage Path by Mya Green Fruits, 8th grade, freshly emigrated from Mexico by Paco Marquez Kundiman: Hung Justice & The Halo-Halo Men: An Anthem by Patrick Rosal [no subject] by Roberto Montes Mistaken for the Subject of an Obituary Terese Coe Dispatch by Tsitsi Jaji Thread by Victoria Matsui Not the Pine Nuts by Victoria McArtor 3 Poems by Shal Nirvanus   Non-Fiction In the Waiting Line by Gyasi Bing nation building/women’s political identity: the border’s apocalyptic mater-futurity by José Felipe Alvergue Seams by Migueltzinta Cah Mai Solís Pino The City is in...
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Fiction

Forgotten Conversation

10 Apr 2015
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  Forgotten Conversation José Angel Araguz   I remember starting the book I borrowed–– stole–– a year earlier, since it was around me more than she was. Back then, I had the nights before me to call and call. 3AM, the back of my throat thick and smoke hollow, my tongue lingering over my R’s: Querrrida, sorry to call late, I’m here, one hundred three perrrrrcent chulo, you should call me. I have your Sandra Cisneros book, y como ella, I want you, juntito a mi. When she didn’t answer, I’d flip through the pages and marvel at the smell of cinnamon. I’d imagine an altar––perhaps candles and photographs around a night stand–– her asleep, her son with the spiked collar and black boots replacing her black nail polish. Back then, I had the nights before me full of perhaps. I would hold the book for hours, determined to get into it, the heart of a Mexican woman. Cisneros would’ve done it differently. She’d have a cigar and call herself Daddy. Her black hair would shine like plums in the moonlight as she prayed, unlike me, for something deeper than forgiveness. If given a second chance, she’d get it right...
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Visual Art

Don’t Forget Us: An Interview with Maia Cruz Palileo

31 Mar 2015
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  JoYin Shih interviews Maia Cruz Palileo The Cuchifritos Gallery is a pocket gallery tucked into the entrance of the Essex Market, at the gritty corner of intersecting neighborhoods—Chinatown and the Lower East Side. Artist Maia Cruz Palileo’s show, “Lost Looking,” was on exhibit this past winter. Upon entering, my gaze scanned the brightly lit studio before settling in for closer examination. Eyeing familiar images (a box television, a sleeping cat) and vibrant colors that conjure nostalgia, there was an instant presence of the real and unreal, a sense of magic realism, emanating from the images. As the title of the show aptly implied, the dozen paintings, selected by curator Jordan Buschur, reflected the integrations of Palileo’s Philippine ancestral homeland and her own Midwest American roots, recovered family lore; and objects and the emotional power they contain. Palileo walked me through the paintings, sharing the history that fueled each piece. Maia Cruz Palileo [MCP]: I was really excited to have a show at Cuchifritos Gallery. Part of their mission is: “to show exhibitions featuring the work of emerging and underrepresented contemporary artists with particular interest in exhibits that convey relevance to the local community.” I like the inclusiveness of this...
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Fiction

Reading in Private: An Interview with Rivka Galchen

29 Mar 2015
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  Rivka Galchen is the author of American Innovations, a collection of short stories speaking in conversation with “classic” short stories from a female perspective, and Amostpheric Disturbances, a novel. Staff writer Joseph Ponce corresponded with Rivka via email about the dangers of “familiar” language, intentionally de-railing plots, and misconstrued emotion and characters. She will be reading as part of the First Person Plural Reading Series, along with Mya Green, Patrick Rosal, and a screening of the Field Niggas and Antonyms of Beauty, a film by Khalik Allah, on Tuesday, March 31 at 7:00pm, at the Shrine World Music Venue in Harlem, NY. Joe Ponce [JP]: American Innovations at times seems to be a commentary on the restrictive and even oppressive nature of language. Do you feel like the language you use in American Innovations is, in a way, a rebellion against old fashioned or constrictive language (the lazy language of idiom)? Rivka Galchen [RG]: I do think my characters, on the spectrum, find phrases particularly magnetic, even talismanic. They’ll try on a phrase as a way to feel, they feel obliged to try and feel the way that language suggests they ought to. It doesn’t quite work, of course....
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Uncategorized

Who Deserves to Die?: On Rationalizing Murder

23 Mar 2015
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  Who Deserves to Die?: On Rationalizing Murder Elizabeth Wright   I hear sirens and helicopters outside. Crowds of protesters march down Grand Avenue and I-580. They’re yelling, throwing bottles, and fighting. I am doing laundry. I’m not out in the streets tonight, but I feel no loyalty to this country. Never have. It’s a common symptom of being African American. I feel nothing but a certain sense of partial belonging, comfort, and familiarity, but no allegiance. *** On November 24th, St. Louis County Prosecuting Attorney Robert McCulloch, announced the following: From the onset, we have maintained and the grand jury agreed that Officer Wilson’s actions on August 9 were in accordance with the laws and regulations that govern the procedures of an officer. Law enforcement personnel must frequently make split-second and difficult decisions. Officer Wilson followed his training and followed the law. (Reilly) *** Michael Brown’s mother, Lesley McSpadden said, “You’re not God. You don’t decide when you’re going to take somebody from here.” But someone, certainly, is playing God. *** “Come on guys.” That’s what Officer Wilson claims to have said when he politely asked Michael Brown and Dorian Johnson to get out of the middle of the...
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FictionPoetryUncategorized

Goldsmith, Conceptualism & the Half-baked Rationalization of White Idiocy

18 Mar 2015
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Goldsmith, Conceptualism & the Half-baked Rationalization of White Idiocy Joey De Jesus   Kenneth Goldsmith’s so-called “uncreative” editing of Michael Brown’s autopsy report into his piece, “The Body of Michael Brown,” is an appropriation of black suffering under the waving standard of “conceptualism.” Is he aware that his appropriation of black death contributes to a long and living history of racism? Probably. Still, he opens his mouth to release his vipers into the growing snakeyard of white supremacist liberalism and its literature. Though Goldsmith has committed to donate his speaker fees to Michael Brown’s family, and has asked Interrupt 3 to withhold the video and transcripts of the event, his wavering attempts to placate the public do little to restore to Michael Brown’s family any decency after commodifying Brown’s body into cultural capital while simultaneously communicating his own sense of supremacy. His apology-via-Facebook does nothing at all to reconcile the deeply racist practices upon which he has grounded his aesthetics of conceptualism. In “Delusions of Whiteness in the Avant-Garde,” Cathy Park Hong’s says, “The avant-garde’s ‘delusion of whiteness’ is the specious belief that renouncing subject and voice is anti-authoritarian, when in fact such wholesale pronouncements are clueless that the disenfranchised...
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PoetryUncategorized

New Work by LiraeL O

06 Mar 2015
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Rumination On How I Don’t Give A Fuck LiraeL O in order to understand the ice beneath i must investigate the receptors of feminine and female energy in the atrium of the cisgender (straight) man. in the chalky landings of a school staircase or perched playfully atop a whiskey ginger, i will eavesdrop and ingest the male in the grass where he pisses on his property, where he speaks openly about the women who satiate his hungry and vasocongest his most prized vessel. the food court sesame chicken jiggles down your esophagus when she walks by. it’s summer and she’s beady and you watch, precum pushing out your pupils and instantly you’re lost in the slow rhythm of her adipose in direct conversation with bone, muscle, gravity, sunlight, pheromone…   she’s the kind of girl you jerk off to in hell, she’s the kind of girl whose mouth you want to spit in, kind of girl who’s sad but you don’t care cause sad girls fuck the best and you love fucking sad girls, she’s the kind of girl who you could see yourself impregnating in a landslide, the kind of girl who you can watch Netflix with in a...
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Uncategorized

The Lover or the Fighter

16 Feb 2015
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The Lover or the Fighter by Ian E. Toledo   It happened during either my sophomore or junior year as an illustration major. I was still struggling to overcome my middle school rep as both shyest and quietest student and was taking a course called Sequential Illustration. The course was taught by a professor who I’ll call Mr. V, an elderly man that’d had a modestly successful career as an illustrator and was pretty well known and respected in some circles. One day Mr. V. gave us an assignment to do a series of comic pages on whatever subject we wanted. Despite the fact that I adored comics, nothing immediately came to mind. So when he came around to check my sketches I looked up at him helplessly, hoping that he would share one of his idea generating methods he had acquired from his career as a successful illustrator. Mr. V’s sage advice was, “Why don’t you draw something about food? Why don’t you draw egg foo young?” Then he looked at me and proceeded to laugh in my face. I was shocked that someone in such a position would say that to me or anyone. A flood of Weltschmerz...
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