ECHO EXHIBIT

Manhattan, in order for 2 cinquains when else tender island— masked, slept oak leaves, waking And other minor secrets set To speak? Times Square Muted as a Back alley— the silence Lets me think, then be. Walk due north Take me by Jessica Lappin + Asiya Wadud

'Manhattan, in order for 2 cinquains,' Jessica Lappin + Asiya Wadud

pressed aside & wait different mantra then digest incantatory to give it body incantatory into believe us look at the week. let it lay low as it needs, hands folded in the week’s homage we did seven days then again each time the days gave purchase a week’s worth and rearrangement fell into the habitat words become their own islands walk to give the words a weight when we do come through, my forest we know what it was like then by Allie Duignan + Asiya Wadud

'pressed aside & wait,' Allie Duignan + Asiya Wadud

Paths upon the past across the universe tectonic plates move over the surface I ordered so many boxes to pack my life in Brooklyn. with the whole process of letting go I felt less frayed as the towels, I put on the street, were gone. wareless shelves left the decoration deserted. the cluster of emptiness adds echo to the void. I kept my composed posture for years the paths of my past became almost tangible in the Pacific Ocean the change is forever. I wonder what my family carried the longest all the way, I’ll swim back to my archipelago. By Jade Kwan + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

'Paths upon the past,' Jade Kwan + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

atlas to every other borough part of the walking needs drift the accretion of happenstance the small dailiness of my one foot then my other follows us like a room spills out to streets then avenues long days resist movement supplicate and readymade— and drift I need what I need, yoke what I yoke but loosely let love if I count the negotiations the allowances before this measure-me April allotment I would say every barrel is labeled new air every breath breathe here my walking foot, measured I knew Saturday looped to let inside my emptied head a film canister for thinking I take to walk and wonder I take to a canopy of oak trees each in our green rooms I take my April with me Kamau Ware + Asiya Wadud

'Atlas to every borough,' Kamau Ware + Asiya Wadud

The inside hallways are green I have a breathing a breath I have a warp I have my niece my niece lets me my niece has me and that is how it is we go and channel the spring was against the trees then hovered the spring viscous as signal to ourselves next each other days meant something welled up to a week week walled then chiseled the wall there are all the things to be done I have my warp and that is how it is and that is how we live by Nanette Nelms + Asiya Wadud

'The inside hallways are green,' Nanette Nelms + Asiya Wadud

DURATIONAL LABOUR To translate the scientific process of sediment shifting over time you’ll push into the framework find what’s actually available in the repetitive, sustaining presence of the body on crushed paper, responsive to the conditions of the material. There, in solitude, time becomes an indeterminate field. Making surfaces and keeping attention, gradual layers of research unearth in the gesture of lines repeating. by Leah Raintree + Alisha Mascarenhas

'DURATIONAL LABOUR,' Leah Raintree + Alisha Mascarenhas

'An Accounting,' Ayana Barber + Rebekah Smith

By foot or conveyance All worlds hinge upon The shadow of the open door Continental throughway continual distance I could rest here or recline with all other Wells or kinships or languages All the disruption then days inside Has sent me to peel back One fold then another Drift through old photographs Look upon a singular gilded hour Washington, DC Every structure sits with its own Secret — all the small imprints Then mum, quelled streets Architectural hints or what has happened A structure’s history that lives in me In my life, my neighborhood and I live — we settle into our Unknowable city and sit with it We await next spring’s monuments Time bears its place among the Watercolors, amidst the enterprising people Each world hinged upon The vertical shadow Or open door by Naima Rauam and Asiya Wadud

'By foot or conveyance,' Naima Rauam + Asiya Wadud

'A good dancer,' Alex Gabrielli + Rebekah Smith

I can dance now I’m home more I sit back more I shop in my neighborhood more Body remembers more When I was a teacher Did I tell you this before? Summers were the time Saddened by isolation. It hasn’t really changed I still have a good balance A stationary body on a mat. This is how slow we are, Nothing blocks your vision when you stop in the middle of an avenue Seeing the monuments more, How they inhabit the city How one and another speak the same language. Here, I appreciate forms more. The music in the livingroom is my fingers Remembering ballet all again, Practicing my piano more I can dance now. By Vivian Young and Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

'I can dance now,' Vivian Young + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

I’m Ill While the Nation’s Boiling I’m ill while the nation’s boiling with germs and police brutality. I’m alive while many are killed. I’m waiting for a transplantation while this nation is transmuting. My wife is a great help while many women have lost their hope in this nation. I’m madder when this nation turns away from its disease than my immune system turns down. The future of this nation is longer than mine, but I’ve received a treatment while the nation is ill. And we’ll be ill together as a state. Christopher Dale Jon + Chia-Lun Chang

'I'm Ill While the Nation's Boiling,' Christopher Dale Jon + Chia-Lun Chang

'Rejoice,' Valerie Bove + Lara Atallah

BETWEEN THE PARK AND THE ISLAND, A SPACE Without possibility for travel time disappeared in vain we smuggled tactics to break public space open. It belongs to the people now more than ever culture is happening we haven’t lost the habit. by Milena Ivanova + Alisha Mascarenhas

'BETWEEN THE AND THE ISLAND, A SPACE,' Milena Ivanova + Alisha Mascarenhas

parakeet crow Astoria, slip four parakeets nest and become the commitment as in as long as they find pleasure with their lives I find pleasure in them this reciprocal logic and let them lead first with their need who am I to make a bird speak to me in my languages? loyal matters slip through the whole crow family the crow river who knew they would remember the generosity the slight the bitterness the take all of me and roundly pass the feel-good the felted matter to their family? polished calls distinguish them iridescent at the feather level brimming all through the family you made your commitment with the parakeets keep what you know about the crow close Astoria inside itself my novel comes together in pages one bird opens the cage with her body Annie Hussain + Asiya Wadud

'parakeet crow Astoria, slip,' Annie Hussain + Asiya Wadud

'For Example, the Sea,' Ashley Sierra + Rebekah Smith

'WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE AT THE BEACH,' Kathleen Tuohy + Alisha Mascarenhas

RESIDENT PROTOCOL Keep the balance Try to be friendly Don’t take the elevator Try not to be afraid of the police Try to open doors Stay in shape Up the energetic frequency by Lily Carr + Alisha Mascarenhas

'RESIDENT PROTOCOL,' Lily Carr + Alisha Mascarenhas

'What's at the end,' Efe Murad + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

I was diagnosed with kindness 32 feel better each day plant more energy in my apartment 6 I was diagnosed from meditation 2-1 as 1 of invitation only members and leaders, recovery groups and sisters 4-5 I’ve lost weight by chair exercise 9:30 thanks to nothing-phobia lots of parks and parking lots the water 48 Staying active and partially in a crisis and organizations for 45 years I was diagnosed as a singer 4 performing more than okay during pandemic Holly Weiss + Chia-Lun Chang

'I was diagnosed,' Holly Weiss + Chia-Lun Chang

Ode to dissidence There can be no freedom without dissent. In my house in Castine, Maine I’m thinking about my past self A teenager registering as a democrat voting against the Vietnam war Bravery is the product of refusal It is what we owe for our privilege My town’s miasmic history complicit with slavery harkens on trauma. It brought fish to slaves. Exported cotton to Europe. This crisis has brought a moment of reckoning. A confrontation with shadows cast into the limelight. Timur Galen + Lara Atallah

'Ode to dissidence,' Timur Galen + Lara Atallah

Palimpsest A dream space where possibility abounds like the garden on my balcony with its geraniums a storm of colors shimmers and delights the pandemic is a palimpsest a new world unravels before us the oneiric as reality Yes it can be better! Yes we can make it better! By Molly Gross and Lara Atallah

'Palimpsest,' Molly Gross + Lara Atallah

All the Creatures The world is going to hell exactly As it should be. When we wish because we see a star, I wish to be an arm— maybe a hand. Out the window in the breeze, on the way to the dog park. I wish to eat a sandwich. I feel happy, and I feel sad. The depths of this mind aren’t so shallow. I wish for a sandwich, now. Later, my wish came true. This moment is still this moment. Maggie Siena + Rebekah Smith

'All the Creatures,' Maggie Siena + Rebekah Smith

Almost a Chance Encounter I look for texture in my day I look back. Listen: There was a route to the ordinary day, There was a back door, a sidewalk, a coffee to go. A front door and a desk. (This was Australia, back when there was space.) There was a front door there was down the street. There was a friend, a glass of wine, a walk home. A back door and a— There was Australia, there was a time before. We learn to keep routines We learn to let them go We learn to like them or not We learn to follow our energy We learn sometimes you need a boundary We learn to let them go. Anna Sayer + Rebekah Smith

'Almost a Chance Encounter,' Anna Sayer + Rebekah Smith

'Hiç beklemediğin şekilde şeyler düzelebiliyor,' Merve Kayan + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

CHARACTER TEST Still tentative in preservation of a certain camaraderie in the aftermath of the reaction to the terror in check. We orient to one another wear the mask for the other person, I always say, you get by giving. Without symptoms, a stress on the ongoing not knowing the city reaps the whirlwind and the rest remains in the confluence, a kinship on fertile ground. by Paul Hovitz + Alisha Mascarenhas

'CHARACTER TEST,' Paul Hovitz + Alisha Mascarenhas

A mellow time of all The other day In the afternoon The sun hit the walls Turned everything marigold. The Island’s rendition of an Island, river is the base spirit Frames of Manhattan was in a muddle. A bartender prepares the oldest mixed drink in London Love is in sync with dreams Which allows the whiskey to shine, the marigold future of nights. By Cristhian Rodriguez + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

'A mellow time of all,' Cristhian Rodriguez + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

The Rules of Love You must first learn how to laugh hold silence like a jewel look for the melody In the branches of a tree framing a house embrace the intervals between a morning run the first spoken word of the day to love a face that spells beauty like my husband’s face a sight I’ve held onto for a decade We have curved words along time zones across continents Until time and space converged into the present by Asya Gorovits and Lara Atallah

'The Rules of Love,' Asya Gorovits + Lara Atallah

It’s personal It’s comfort It’s dear lullaby cradle songbird ] [ lullaby cradle songbird [ ] tamebird it’s okay press my feathers get the thrill of life stay inside my mind equalizer then ceremony a little panic in the forgetting ready round inside my head it feels right I let me be Jingjing Tian + Asiya Wadud

'It's personal It's comfort It's dear,' Jingjing Tian + Asiya Wadud

How to love the present It can be hard to know what day it is Time is squishy like jello It can feel endless like anticipatory grief It stretches before speeding up So I meditate outdoors where nature, a lifeline awaits everyday Patience is an unfinished song whose chorus is an ellipse It asks us to trust as time tangles and untangles its web. A wave that carries us through obscurity, looking askance at all that we may lament My daughters and I go to the park every day I breathe it out as (Inhale exhale) By Thomas Cote + Lara Atallah

'How to love the present,' Thomas Cote + Lara Atallah

'Plums,' Anna Harsanyi + Lara Atallah

It’s nice to have a moment Such a beautiful day in the woods Away from city A breath to myself with an open mouth, The nature is too real to be green again. In the virtual version Hard to see the stars at nights The oaks on the sky. It’s a transitional place They can’t see me, I can hear them. Waiting for the move I walked than before I walked in a walk I walked around the buildings, the windows, the shops and the chairs. Seeing the world through the eyes of a dog, Uncertainty has no color I smelled things I searched for the various sources of sound. For the stability of the mind I took each and every route Room to room Street to street. It’s nice to have a moment By Maggie Pavao + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

'It's nice to have a moment,' Maggie Pavao + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

images of birds flourishing in New York City with Debbie Becker’s March 2020 bird sightings a window could be framed to mark the kind of discipline glass-clean beveled to make the glass bird-safe a secondary tribute to flight or a city or scarlet tanager almost roiling how it glows then three birds glowing, alight pleated woodpecker eastern bluebird house sparrow the birds would see the glass and know the signals to mean we are still here eating our early dinners shuffling between our discipline and the weeks all along the perimeter and in a dream a thrush flew so close to me left me with my memory of distance and the in between distorted and a lonebird a window would be placed next to our early dinner what signals for us, now blessings the sirens the birds — the crystal-tinged pinprick of late March we are given to the red of the tanager, given to the glow given to the house sparrow given to the theater too quiet given to hand over hand, this logic— this leap. imagine a bird flourishing in New York City in March, then it flourishes. dinner was good. it was early. we fixed our attention out the window. Robert Chavez + Asiya Wadud

'images of birds flourishing in New York City,' Robert Chavez + Asiya Wadud

phrasal verb or chapters 1-4 1. say Friday today. already. this morning. a cleaver arrangement who took care to choose the flowers and place them together sigh, ready word what have we today? 2. I have thought and unthought thousands of times the referent the months between March and May May and June June and I remembered to choose the flowers and place them together someone wrapped them to say bouquet 3. to see Friday barbershop the salon rain is never so brittle — we in all the monuments the MMMMs the MMMMs and blessings 4. the summer is still a season. the children wait for their structure. the city is a long grid underneath us. by Gale Brewer + Asiya Wadud

'phrasal verb or chapters 1-4,' Gale Brewer + Asiya Wadud

How am I coping? / I’ve been awake for so long / my leisure time and work time blur / I’ve read that new activities do something to time in your brain / stretching it out / and here I am still in Virginia / in the suburbs with my parents thought I’d be out here for two weeks / while some friends from our office completely moved out of New York City / I don’t think they ever saw New York as their home / some are really embracing their new lives as spouses and parents / my friends and I just graduated from college in 2019 / and already a few of them seem like they’ve outgrown New York, they’re older, trying to settle down / the pandemic brings on a new chapter / a pivot to change our lives for the better Susie Lee + Madison McCartha

Susie Lee + Madison McCartha

Near Pier 35 each window of the building a signifier or inroad into the building all the long distance now collapsed saw inside each apartment — all the meals sorted in the amnesic peak of April we arrived by the dozens let the amnesia create its own aseptic film a necessary distance to carry on I choose to believe in the attrition of tamed logic the limits of hope stretched out in a long loop of goldthread by Trever Holland and Asiya Wadud

'Near Pier 35,' Trever Holland + Asiya Wadud

'Slalom,' Faiza Haq + Lara Atallah

IT’S MUTUAL It’s hard to mobilize when you’re hungry you think people have stopped caring are just trying to get over each other, you slow down, assess your values, ask, what are the demands you may be without savings but do you have time a little water? by Bianca Vitale + Alisha Mascarenhas

'IT'S MUTUAL,' Bianca Vitale + Alisha Mascarenhas

All that blooms In the suburbs the world is green lush with flora. While colors scintillate I sit at the intersection of this dichotomy, of pandemic versus flourishing of calm versus chaos of hell versus bliss My parents’ room is my office I rest my eyes on the floral carpet Watch my sons draw every morning They, too, are blossoming Alice Russotti + Lara Atallah

'All that blooms,' Alice Russotti + Lara Atallah

'The New Scene,' Yasmeen Mughal + Rebekah Smith

RUSH HOUR You have no idea what people are going through swimming sick of themselves in the feedback loop of the self back into the self shifting perspective dance of public life there is a call to question integrity: Is everything prepared who are you supporting and who are you exploiting what is held in your implicit silence address the friction when time collapses find your anchor by Sophie Lam + Alisha Mascarenhas

'RUSH HOUR,' Sophie Lam + Alisha Mascarenhas

Stewards of the Earth Farmers are alchemists Under whose feet the earth susurrates whose hands breed life churning land sowing magic The sheen of an apple The curvature of an egg I grew food as a child in Brooklyn watched it blossom before my eyes Harvest is the interlude between seasons The song between falling leaves and blooming flowers Earth teaches us sustenance is power anytime a tomato ripens The farmer’s market is luminous with joy And I, too relish its bounty By Bob Lewis + Lara Atallah

'Stewards of the Earth,' Bob Lewis + Lara Atallah

HABITS BREAK OPEN Find a hard comfort in the new lifestyle, take stock of the home and your surrounds slip from the quick fix to fill the void and break toward what’s fruitful how do you handle plague: fall back and redirect the familiar chase the light to charge the situation we don’t have all the time in the world there is an end point will it absorb you? by Jason Stives + Alisha Mascarenhas

'HABITS BREAK OPEN,' Jason Stives + Alisha Mascarenhas

in the tradition of a book that kept me company for four months I took to two novels to reset the presence of New York— could marry the images and call it the city could leave the images and call them all five boroughs all the ways to let a cold aseptic diligence die for the promise and patience of next April has its own buried logic leave it where it is can never account for those days for the promise and patience of what it was think of all the ways of traveling the grid spins out to its own immaculate order continued to spin while we were inside consumption became threadbare call the area inside and ask if it will eventually spill out ask if we should expect reciprocity I can sit here and write made a new daily rotation still made words or the promise and patience leave it where it is Tess Gruenberg + Asiya Wadud

'in the tradition of a book that kept me company for four months,' Tess Gruenberg + Asiya Wadud

The recent intimacy of shared things The shape of earth By the lake Introverts We meet strangers. The shelf carried to a square, The recent intimacy of shared things A flash of lightning The word full of letters A page out of silence Gloss the ground. Reading out loud improves listening So many devoted ears in the lucid circle of air. If a poem isolated a hundred flowers would bloom. By Wah Ming Chang + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

'The recent intimacy of shared things,' Wah-Ming Chang + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

Days of Kitchen The meal Entire time The entire meal Time for ten thousands The distance changed The posture changed But my life repeats itself Multiplied by essential plates Cooking is routine Cooking is fulfilling A fulfilling routine Cooking all the food for The curved realm of saving lives. By Helene H. Henderson + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

'Days of Kitchen,' Helene Henderson + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

REACH TO FEEL It starts with the nicknames tiny foreclosures expand with exposure to the culture and you realize what can happen with time, how it gets free you see spaces from the middle interlocutor for the family feeling in the between you perceive what it really means. In a country built by immigrants you feel for everybody, everything else comes out of this. by Jeannette Dominguez + Alisha Mascarenhas

'REACH TO FEEL,' Jeannette Dominguez + Alisha Mascarenhas

The illusory truth pushing the edges of dissonance opening the shutters after all the normalities frozen in time the image of the world from a wider angle is clearer. as the light dims some pretend nothing happens repetition of the falsehood changes the cumulation. two women keep a journal of the presence of mind. I have a lot of feelings about us, one writes us meaning us in defiance of fantasy. by Joanie HF Zosike + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

'The illusory truth,' Joanie HF Zosike + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

'Keşfet,' Oğulcan Kuş + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

Martha Nelson + Madison McCartha

The Remains The longer the building remains, the blurrier the memory sculpts. Only variations remain, sometimes, the river, always joggers, ups and downs. The remain of the city eats buildings out, and converts our friends to skylines. In order to build assets in my womb, I hang in the street and shadow the city. I don’t know to deal with uncertainty, yet my routine sculpts a route between new buildings. Gigi Li + Chia-Lun Chang

'The Remains,' Gigi Li + Chia-Lun Chang

Theism Having a conversation with one’s own children Meanwhile technical animal emotions. Therefore, the earth makes a decision To relearn ABC. I work, I do to affect Theism and environment. My children aren’t going to follow my Path. Roasted by hopeless, their grit Has been choked from climate change. They long for What will this world be? Therefore I ask another child. Valerie J Amor + Chia-Lun Chang

'Theism,' Valerie J Amor + Chia-Lun Chang

'Çok az insan olmasına rağmen çok insan var ,' Çağlar Çoban + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

we thought we would be sheltered in the US but we weren’t immune as a global epicenter a new york collectivity doesn't surprise me given 9/11 it isn’t a surprise when isolation forms a pact around the daily connection i’m not a native to new york even though i’ve lived here for 20 years we exchange a nonverbal solidarity i’d never want to infect / a small gesture or a critical health emergency in my family when Governor Cuomo directs us to give what we can to move forward i see compassion in Republicans wearing the mask of returning to normal and the more we do that the more we erase Judith Modrak + Madison McCartha

Judith Modrak + Madison McCartha

Perennials At first, the days were identical tainted by moroseness. Sadness, gave way to observation. There’s comfort in annual rendez-vous like when cherry blossoms trumpet April. Turning streets into a procession and trees parade their foliage heeding a call for celebration. My garden taught me to embrace unpredictability, and as I catered to its needs as it spoke. The blooming perennials carpeting the Earth, plague be damned! Transience brings relief when you make peace with it. It reminds us to relish our breath Anthony Notaro + Lara Atallah

'Perennials,' Anthony Notaro + Lara Atallah

film still for day one new customs latched and laid preparation or enter the room with your voice readied, redailed and dedication too habitual like the dahlia planted in spring chose to blossom and bear the blossom the voice box tender and its textbook use open the book and speak with the space where the pages meet or cool binding where the pages credit the hinge with open the book you say train your eyes to the top left corner and begin we could plan for an interior journey a question or query quandary during the quaint days that add up to the kempt pages— the tidy corners the sequential order the bear and blossom the voice box recuses itself and sings in accordance to sequence and late March next all of April habits chiseled to their new form and a formal way for cleaving the space professional social hiatus familial dreamy where the pages crease by Theresa Hottel + Asiya Wadud

'film still for day one,' Theresa Hottel + Asiya Wadud

triptych is 2020, but still Part I. my watermelon and home and our lettuces and spinach and emerald and open and grapple and fixture and the hawks’ nest on Water Street and the hawks slept on Water Street and watermelon and spinach and emerald and let’s take some of everything in season. Part II. diurnal birds of prey then stillness Water Street and the newbirds March— bare branches then let come the cool canopy of fresh leaves and all the spring the sirens’ threnody and the birds rest. the birds’ acuity— a blessing Part III. all the worlds get crumpled and paper thin. but we have seen us by the thousands now gather for what worlds gravitate and bend towards more just worlds more gracious Catherine McVay Hughes + Asiya Wadud

'triptych is 2020, but still,' Catherine McVay Hughes + Asiya Wadud

twenty-two years from today due north to walk Lower Manhattan to the Bronx make a luxury of this breached time can hear myself think, foot for footfall could be luxury or function the walk that swallows the whole borough a payload quelled the cars that are left which are few I have lived my life here know that function cuts a clean grid plastic sheets would hang between us keep what is ours ours luxury— distributive and passing out the rest I opened the cedar chest and rearranged the tidy piles placed a few things we gathered in the rupture in the stack labeled / this I need to function / all the things we thought distributed we gathered up again— laid them close all justices deserve us cuts a clean grid for our futures Stevie Famulari + Asiya Wadud

'twenty-two year from today,' Stevie Famulari + Asiya Wadud

readymade undertones it could begin by examining the space mere edges then hemming more allowing the space to make four boxes then a brood or nest all the transitory flight how we fled our old intentions left it at the storm door closed it but the floods still came in all the transitory flight we are ready then some fleeting all forlorn grips— what matters is how we can remember then flood the country with new disposition take a salt bath inside one of the four boxes after I examined the space didn’t forget a single frame rough wrought and the new life I begin with a question elly kalfus + Asiya Wadud

'readymade undertones,' elly kalfus + Asiya Wadud

The tranquility of dreaming together in an ocean the body needs rest. limits of a miracle miracle of transformation our metabolism inside outside safeathome fabric of family is delicate new wirings like being in an ocean of an ongoing information anonymous dynamics insights and intuitions borders explained the borders imagining was hard certain slowless the p o s s i b i l i t y people don’t rush anymore psychological space became vast world there will be for our children virus is educating us. By Megan Madden + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

'The tranquility of dreaming together,' Megan Madden + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

Repurposed Self At times the pandemic leaves my mind. The days dissolve the weeks sprint by. All is in flux A parallel world I’m in a constant state of adjustment Motherhood rings different It occurs to me that magic lives in the mundane In Prospect Park a smaller path leads to a magical place A stairway and turtles An enclave in a restless world For a moment All is well By Elisabeth Skjaervold + Lara Atallah

'Repurposed Self,' Elisabeth Skjaervold + Lara Atallah

How much do we trust on the phone Knowing the poor connection distrusts The manageable truth. Not us, The connector has no story but Ideas, concepts, always leave a vein of Salt inside the line. Cellphone limes & Ashamed, Someone must pay attention or bills. Not us, a mighty and infinity pool between Your voice is breaking up with - My ex breaks away a Landmine. Call me again I’ll be thinking about relationships & Where can we completely trust On lifeline? David Thomson + Chia-Lun Chang

'How much do we trust on the phone,' David Thomson + Chia-Lun Chang

'A Sense of Trust 1,' Elena Haskins + Rebekah Smith

A garden of one’s own on the east side of the earth I grew up in gardens the fireflies used to guide us in our vineyard at nights. the memory of a land is a sensual fugue. on the westest of the west earth she carries the mint from her mother to a garden of her own lush colonies, cultivated fields (I imagine) the hue where together lighten the life. some love hot frame some love indirect light newborn greeneries with care roots are forming when she pours some tea. By Misha Sesar + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

'A garden of one's own,' Misha Sesar + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

a gift for the rest of my life as I motioned toward the chair the books spread the spell. everything became visible the revival of the muse paralyzed in time. the demands of previous life kept me away from spending time at home where my dog dreams of a delicious bone the deep sense of wandering into what the body wants what my needs are anti-rituals. the alarm clock doesn’t beep anymore I wake up as I get my sleep enough And my dog tells me what to do How long should I remain in a thought How long should I take a walk the most simple thing as a gift for the rest of my life. by Ellen A Guidone + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

'a gift for the rest of my life,' Ellen A Guidone + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

EVERYTHING IS OUTSIDE Masked and gloved it’s you at the threshold before the bull blocked from going any further. Break it all down try to find a place of your own to reset + back off from the force get a little peace of mind. by QuasiaMonay + Alisha Mascarenhas

'EVERYTHING IS OUTSIDE,' Quasia Monay + Alisha Mascarenhas

What to do with an hour the extension of minutes then what it gave to us was consequential time relative to expectation or the hour possesses what we intended and could possess a message to all the children then hushed mouths for a month then months in its diligence the singe of spring becomes the seer of summer come fall— bedrock or we build everything with our new precision from the bottom up Gina Farrar + Asiya Wadud

'What to do with an hour,' Gina Farrar + Asiya Wadud

Dazhe, Dive with Asiya Wadud Dive into this daydream, my dumayem about others, we dumayem about people together working together. Demand a new form of relating to others, be demanded, don’t you mean? Don’t even imagine it, dazhe we can’t we share we can’t share, dazhe not just in plays but together we were. Daydream maybe we’ll be. Dive as in drift down, down, deliver us from drowning, we drive, we drift, we dive, we differ. We defer. D as in dreamlike, dreamland, d as in dusting the surface of this dusky afternoon, don’t you know, here. Dvig, we dig deep, dream deep, dvizhemsya drifting. There is magic in a D there is magic in the theater don’t you see? Don’t you dream it can be? Dabble in the drift of the D is for dive is for drive. Doma we are, doma we sit, dazhe nelzya, ne vosmozhno disconnect and reconnect or dazhe even just connect. Dazhe let’s dispense with this drama, don’t let’s, let’s dream it through even further. Further, far from here from past this dream, from past this damned dream, dazhe nazad. Dina Vovsi + Rebekah Smith

'Dazhe, Diva,' Dina Vovsi + Rebekah Smith

Bryce Anthony + Madison McCartha

Mère Her whole face was embedded in the book. I heard her voice. Her body was implanted in flowers, trees, and literature by our farm. I sensed the seed. In the garden we grew arts and ants. It’s a direct and contiguous communication to food. We grew up together: tangled tainted triggered: Now I live in the city, merely can’t escape from nature. She showers with shinrin-yoku, merely can’t respond. A quiet time to pine Muriel Louveau + Chia-Lun Chang

'Mère,' Muriel Louveau + Chia-Lun Chang

Soul Bartender Can vampires swim? Perhaps in the blood in a basement ocean Mary stirs in liquid, lips & tips, Long Island ice teeth. They sap ill-lit cocktails, a cape, energy and discomfort from people. Their inner child interacts with nature, summer and a Leo. When vampires take a night off to wear pool tubes, they could be soul-bar-tenders or seekers. On piers, accompanied by daywalkers and hopping zombies, sparse. Erica “Ricky” Huie + Chia-Lun Chang

'Soul Bartender,' Erica "Ricky" Huie + Chia-Lun Chang

If not, I heard I have to admit we’re happy for this en el campo de en el campo de en el campo vivo vivo sola en el campo de artes yo vivo I have to admit— there was a girl, a boy, a child across the river— there was a child I saw, a child I heard I heard— there is an hijo In another time I have to go, I have to admit we were happy for this— I saw a mother, a family, another place to be, another chance to speak we saw. These days I must I have to I must admit, en el campo de covid there is a new language— we move subtly, slightly, still we silently admit, we hear you. I heard and I hear a calm quiet in the mat in the floor— Perhaps the flora. Lina Alfonso + Rebekah Smith

'If not, I heard,' Lina Alfonso + Rebekah Smith

WEATHER DETECTION She swam from the thunder and down the stairs of the pool no lightning bolts, but swift backstrokes onward young minnows in warm weathers you can make your own person in the underwaves. by Ruthie Robertson + Alisha Mascarenhas age 6.5

'WEATHER DETECTION,' Ruthie Robertson + Alisha Mascarenhas

future & we used the science if I tried and walked along the East River then I walked along the river held inside all possible life in the river if the question of which animals — who makes their homes here I would name them telling you what I have seen and what has maybe seen me once, a turtle maybe left in mercy eels, arriving in a swarm, a bed, a fry seals any number of birds shoals of different fish what we don’t know we don’t know all the life inside the river, remember? the culmination of our work: we have planned for an assumed future take care and map the floodplains use our knowledge to spare us the burden know the disposition of the water I return to the beach to think what we don’t know we don’t know but for the future we used science hold inside all dazzled rivers Kate Boicourt + Asiya Wadud

'future & we used the science,' Kate Boicourt + Asiya Wadud

Scarlet An elegant color goes a long way // like that of a scarlet tanager bird // cutting through the sky // its plumage // matching // the umbrella under which // I’m seated // The east river makes // the masts of the ambrose // waver like arms reaching for // infinity // An urban lighthouse // a song // Every day I take stock // it is easy to get lost in the numbers// easy to stray // we trip on our thoughts when deep in // silence // but everyday I see the masts // with their outstretched arms // saluting me as I walk home Meriam + Lara Atallah

'Scarlet,' Meriam Lobel + Lara Atallah

That’s Not the Name of the Realtor It’s the name of an elementary school teacher It’s the name of an insurance sales officer It’s the name of a scrapyard worker It’s the name of I do many things It’s the name of a pace Of a pace I work part-time Of a pace, of a part-time thought: I never think of thunder unless it’s thundering. I never think Of new norms and of a pace Of in a place In a place I’d always want to do In a place this is something In place of life, this puts. I didn’t know you were a conversation, until you started talking. In a place, in front of you, there is the pace of a conversation. Megan Mandrachio + Rebekah Smith

'That's Not the Name of the Realtor,' Megan Mandrachio + Rebekah Smith

BLIND CONTOUR There is an end coming now, and a light converging lines on the horizon form across the East River the bodies of buildings shimmering. Emerge from the bathroom window to the fire escape beneath a leafy canopy from a weed so tenacious it grew to a tree. by Sophia Kramer + Alisha Mascarenhas

'BLIND CONTOUR,' Sophia Kramer + Alisha Mascarenhas

$Bellweather Anxiety calls for fragmentation. The breakdown of all the insurmountable down to the cellular Like moving synchronistically in a world morphing fast into another My main space fractured into adjacent spaces. My house an abode made from corners I scurry through the days by diving in my father’s personal history Perhaps, there is where answers reside. Waiting to be found in forgotten corners By Camilo Smith + Lara Atallah$

'Bellweather,' Camilo Smith + Lara Atallah

A pivot to resting places It came as a revelation you open your eyes and the room extends. the likelihood of moving slow in my parent’s bedroom when the tiny closet /was in front of us redefined for our spatial desires. I work in the morning, my mom does her exercise the sky tints I read on the floor she naps later on. The crisscross pattern changed the whole geography marking how much space do we really need? By Lindsay LeBoyer + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

'A pivot to resting places,' Lindsay LeBoyer + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

THEN WINDOWS Losing deep hours of sleep to the news and the aggressive early morning light, initial eagerness retreats from the screen, take up the simple act of closing the eyes resting the feet on the ground in the empty apartment. Turn to exchange with a stranger develop faith opening to the words of another. Look to books a blank page let thoughts turn material prepare meals both simple and elaborate tend to the slow revival and the sustaining goodness of houseplants. by Sharon Chin + Alisha Mascarenhas

'THEN WINDOWS,' Sharon Chin + Alisha Mascarenhas

Aerial view The city silent as a mural wills itself awake a held breath, a flurry of empty pavements it’s the waiting that gets you In Tompkins Square Park life rests its gentle palm on my shoulders as baby hawks mighty in their joy, frolic in their nests waiting to feast on their parents’ gatherings Park workers tend to an oasis in a plagued fortress where streets went mute By Tobi Elkin and Lara Atallah

'Aerial view,' Tobi Elkin + Lara Atallah

Now we all know The lungs are passive participants in breathing, letting a feeling in to understand something finely reckoning with the emotions. What I feel when I press on my thumb, Where do I keep the memory of simple days, How are my eyes? Which organ grieves the exact amount of my pain, When somebody leaving us behind How do we feel in ourselves? Now we all know People are dying. Eventhough everything is I have food in the fridge, another diaphragm under the linens. I lost my appetite, circled the bed. my roof became a refuge, a flat refuge from the pell-mell, the stairs lead to the sunsets even in rainy days. I knew that the roof was there before the stairs, before it rains. By Cristina Suazo + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

'Now all we know,' Cristina Suazo + Sevinç Çalhanoğlu

Poem's Time To make a world— There is a world here, where the lines break into sound. Eli Schleicher + Rebekah Smith

'Poem's Time,' Eli Schleicher + Rebekah Smith

An Inventory of Longing Isolation still makes us porous the world rushes in unabated My daughter and I make our way to a farmer’s market where life abounds. There is a linden tree in bloom on 16th street. Life despite darkness Things I’ve missed: Dancing Touching Reading energy in the room Life like a Bob Dylan song tearing through the room. Jody Oberfelder + Lara Atallah

'An Inventory of Longing,' Jody Oberfelder + Lara Atallah

COLLECTIONS morning walks are just as easy to lose as you come to know the space you sleep in attend to the function of each object what it holds how it holds you little things the wind through the trees in California making quiet in a loud space by Jasmin Tabatabaee + Alisha Mascarenhas

'COLLECTIONS,' Jasmin Tabatabaee + Alisha Mascarenhas

$one green book page, Part II spatial Fridays ready the rest all tender ready the rest schoolhouse zipper then the classrooms rest well diurnal or all the days shifted half an inch pleated them to remember slipped inside the book page collapsed the refrain in the pages I could get with this anticipate all quell the rest the revenant the island reaches for its covenants let the day be a guidebook I return to it fractal diurnal zipper then the pages I get with this Saturday Sunday replete by Joan Young + Asiya Wadud$

'one green book page, Part II,' Joan Young + Asiya Wadud

Nebulous Patience comes from adaptability It can be hard to reconcile ways of navigating pandemonium In the Hampton Bays, I’m surrounded by beauty. My window frames a life of leisure that feels alien. A pool, a deck a garden that bring serenity speaking over the incessant banter from the media. Deaths on an upward swerve do little to assuage Our foundations have been destroyed There is no amount of preparing that feels adequate. Only beauty can save us. Julie Hatterer + Lara Atallah

'Nebulous,' Julie Hatterer + Lara Atallah

THE NEWS in the remote illumination of possibility a storm cleared the sky and the crisis of waiting was relieved the duration of anything is unknowable just a sequence of unreal windows of contagion of recovery shed what was never real what do you mean have faith I love to know by Chloë Bass + Alisha Mascarenhas

'The News,' Chloe Bass + Alisha Mascarenhas

Median strip From Italy, China to Jackson Heights, we see it coming. Virtualize a mom driving a table, inside median Strips, there are warm meals, corn, and schedule. To murder an identity is the first job Becoming a mother. We see it forming. Humans don’t look at each other in the elevator, To get the most out of the city doesn’t include Spreading fear and infection. All mothers operate the same car, we keep it moving. Lisa Starzyk + Chia-Lun Chang

'Median strip,' Lisa Starzyk + Chia-Lun Chang

About That Love My thought process was: Don’t say it. If I’m home all the time, You might do it. I’ll dream about, I’ll dream Say it about you, under my rib cage You might I’ll dream about, Don’t. But my thought process was: Okay I won’t spend it all But? Now I find, I dream That’s it I dream and now too I’m with you now Under my rib cage there is The dream was? you, under my and two fingers trace a line there is an exam at the end. Grace Lin + Rebekah Smith

'About That Love,' Grace Lin + Rebekah Smith

Gospel (special thanks to Mariah Carey) Praise music because it is a healer Say yes to the rhythm The cadence of a drive brings clarity It's cold outside and much too late to drive You know I need you, baby, I'm so lost without your love I have Mariah Carey on blast her glamor, butterflies, The diva has it all. Driver's Education 101 slipped out of my mind I need me a caddy with some cruise control, no, no, no Joy is resistance it fears calamity These days Joy is how we win What is hope if not stubborn joy Jennifer Carley + Lara Atallah

'Gospel,' Jennifer Carley + Lara Atallah

$every day at a time / but fractured / as my ankle ice skating / waiting / until the bone is completely healed / I had to move into my sister’s house / change has a purpose we can see / how nature replenishes itself / without our input / birds appreciate / in their natural habitat and don’t dwell in city noises / I could pinpoint / red cardinals / the red chested robin / let me tell you / the squirrel who looks in our window every day / is very concerned / she is pregnant but / lacks the knowledge of our history / of our african-american community / being from the Caribbean / I can share this with my nieces and nephews / that people are coming together / in one voice / standing-up for a belief / as bad as covid is / they can connect / with love Lticia Herbert + Madison McCartha$

Lticia Herbert + Madison McCartha