CW: death, state-sanctioned violence, state-sanctioned murder, state-sanctioned rape, state-sanctioned torture, state-sanctioned racism, state-sanctioned ableism, state-sanctioned queerphobia, state-sanctioned transphobia, state-sanctioned white, supremacy, state-sanctioned patriarchy, genocide, colonization, police, abortion, blood, gore graphic violence, suicidal ideation, profanity, explicit sexual content, sexual language, george washington’s dick, america

“The design of this system grows more blatant with each disaster it swings our way. and that’s why i must insist that art will save us. poetry will save us. a movement without art, the sentiments it evokes, and the personal and collective truths it reveals, is a movement incomplete. art is not a novelty; it’s a necessity. and yes, this book is going to be raw. that’s fine. i’m not going to edit out the rawness or the grit. i’m not going to edit out the passion or the moment in time. i’m not going to succumb to this white classist patriarchal cisnormative heteronormative ablelist colonist narrative that books must be perfect, pretty, and polished to be worthwhile. this is how they gatekeep us. this is how they fuck us right up, keep us out, and keep us silenced.” Excerpt from Preface (baby ur a PIECEofWORK, 2022), Ami

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Prose: “— Soft-Skin Darlings of the Tundra (2),” by Ami

petals plucked off are reutilized, revitalized by the destitute for non-demonic self-asphyxiation. For devils, rose spines are always being planted beneath tender prints of earthly inebriation. Thornmilk, meanwhile, is never as nourishing as they lead you to believe. It pulps lucid on each victim’s bottom lip — melds to dry flesh, stretching unnamed intricacies of the pout further astray. That is why mercury bears superior whims for any mortal withering, whimpering, faltering by their own infallibility. Humans know naught of ethereality, nor elixir; the divinities find themselves perpetually enamored, yet equal-parts enraged, by all the ways in which sense continues to elude us. 

Prose: “— Soft-Skin Darlings of the Tundra (1),” by Ami, Published in Vallum Mag (19:2 | OPEN THEME 2022)

a when is [human] only when still/“alive” to the naked eye. Our menace’s specter-rose rise-rises poetic, enveloped by sweet-tooth/teethed fiends of possibility, non-noxious toxicity. Sure, writing about others — those choking, loathing others — is a somewhat ongoing train of deep-seethed/seep-seethed strain or straining. Inertia nursed needless is still no reason to cease. Language breathes best among torque-thrummed wind chimes. 

“[Blood] Sodden Anguish/Deathbed Red (Fall 2017 Mood Board)” — a poem (2021) first published in Survivor Lit (2021) & forthcoming in full-length manuscript, Experiments in Quietus (Really Serious Literature, 2023)

[blood] sodden anguish infiltrates interrogates 

fabric dips              dyes flesh scarlet 

towels   rags    already adorn the

floor             design inspo              autumn shade

auburn burgundy           the hues of

after      sapphire runs obscure   sans

sanctum    sliced open blue blood

rinses over oxygen   gaspgasp ruby

red     slick essence   plasma specked

heart milk     artillery     arteries severed

veins plied     contorted      perverted into

themselves      triple-knotted       hurled out into

the universe          carpet bleached clean

deathbed suicide where blood runs


“The Affliction of Romance:SeeYou[InMySadLittleSceneAlienBoyHeart]SpaceCowboy<3” A Music Review, First Published in Hyphenpunk (2021)

Rather than collapsing into the space of forgotten-about relics immediately uponconception, scene-revival band “SeeYouSpaceCowboy” delivers the much-needed grand finale to yet another apocalyptic year: their newest album, The Romance of Affliction. This new release includes features from Keith Buckley of “Every Time I Die,” independent artist SHAOLIN G, Aaron Gillespie of “Underoath,” and “If I Die First.”



“Viridian:” a short story (2021) inspired by language in Hoa Nguyen’s collection, Red Juice, & first published in Intangible Magazine’s 2nd Issue, “Kalopsia” (2021)

Content Warnings: rape, human/animal abuse/cruelty, violence, C-PTSD, self-harm


In the woods, it rained cat placenta. As the snow scorched to age[d] water wave[s], Viridian’s famous, feathered cilantro specimen drowned to extinction.

During this particular monsoon, the soil had become more enriched than ever, but with what, the experts were unsure. The botanists deemed the place flooded beyond repair, condemned it, and moved on, never to return. They did not know of The Mother who resided there, nor did she know of them. It probably wouldn’t have made a difference either way.

Deep in the woods, The Mother stood alone. She was the type who was always noting things, the kind who always had to know everything. Even before it became endangered, she had always doted over the cilantro plant more than any person before her. A phantom, remnant of the pet chicken she had loved as a child before it was slaughtered and ground to bits before her very eyes, was the one who informed her of its extinction. Tremendously devastated by the demise of her favorite herb, she realized the implications of mortality, gorged her brain from her skull, and cast it to the ground. She was done suffering. Still, The Mother couldn’t help but observe how reluctantly the useless thing slithered down, or how the ancient oaks trembled as they watched this abomination unfold before them.