First published in 2019, removed from print and Kindle in 2021, and republished on its three-year anniversary in 2022 as a love letter from the author to the indie literature community, Devolution is hellish, bewildering, disillusioned, rough, raw, and melancholy. And in the new 2022 edition, this book has a little something extra: an intricate prelude reflecting on exile, capitalism in traditional publishing, and the stigma following indie creators alongside the author’s experiences with earning their M.F.A. in Creative Writing at the California Institute of the Arts, and getting their foot in the art and publishing worlds between Devolution‘s initial release date and now. It also details why, out of Sanghvi’s seven original books, all of which the author unpublished in mid-2021 (along with Devolution), they decided to bring back this one (the odd book out and least recognized of the bunch), and this one alone, in what is more or less its original, untampered early-2019 form.


back cover:)
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“[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

free

“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.”

 

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“Stupid Milk”: a poem (2021) first published in Survivor Lit (2021) & forthcoming in full-length manuscript, Experiments in Quietus (Really Serious Literature, 2023)


curdle in within myself like
some homespun kiss of death
spoiled milk shriveled biochemical bitch
shadows on skin become tombs
why am I still here

when there are poisons to
be made toxins to be
consumed at discretion reckless abandonment
contamination this is my consideration
abstract this abstract that abstract

where flesh heals over again

all the polish in the
world cannot make scars go
away cannot make scars go
away the non-rhythmic heart is
despaired interred whimpering to plunge

“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


VIRIDIAN


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.

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