JESS GOLDMAN
An Instagram project that uses the borders of Jess's old flipphone screen.
@flipphonejes
"U thought u were into it–could swear u were wet a second ago. She is wet. Certainly wet. Lower back hovering above the bed. U are a paper towel–quickly absorbing ur own mess. She comes loud and u hate her a bit."
Disability Represented in/as Culturally Disruptive Bodies within the Quebec Charter of Values, a paper that deconstructs how, in the Global North, Muslim women are seen to be 'less able' than westernized bodies, published in Knots: An Undergraduate Journal of Disability Studies.
"U just met him but u follow him home, into the outskirts of a city u do not know–u follow a freeness u thought killed all worry until he comes out of his room with a blue sparkly dress and says: 'Wear.'"
"On the mug is written, 'Someone in Toronto loves me!' A gift from his son who moves him into the nursing home, pats his back and drives off. Months pass with no word. How often do gifts lie for their givers?"
SELECTED POEMS
299 792 458 m / s
Does he know
that all life
is held in a woman?
Will he know
how to find the speed of light
in a speck of dust?
Stranger
I never wear slips.
But the way her eyes
slip
on me
is like silk against skin.
I tell my
secluded face,
my
wrung-out words,
this
is the story you have chosen:
one of a constant stranger.
I tell the empty bed,
smelling of Me and no one else:
this is your story.
You have chosen.
SELECTED FICTION EXCERPTS
Penis?
"The point was this: Sue had options. A lifetime of penises allowed her to choose what she wanted to see. A penis was an innumerable amount of things. For example, right then Cooper’s hand was not gripping a penis but a water gun. And then? Water was shooting out from his gun. Water."
98388
"He heard death in Wanda’s 4’10 frame as Doctor Gupta’s electric palms seized her chest, rattling her limp limbs against the bedsides. Aviv learned long ago how to tell the Ones Who Come Back from the Ones Who Do Not."
Hamburger
"Eugene Goldstein sits on death row nibbling at his last meal: a hamburger. No cheese. His incisors snip off the edge of the sesame bun, pull the skin from a tomato slice, tear a frill of lettuce and then annex off six millimetres of ground meat into his mouth. This burger is no pedestrian burger – it's the placeholder for his world. This communion of bread and beef – an icon of American industrialization, the original fast food – is both a human invention and the clue to some higher order, the site of complete disembodiment and utter union..."