May 31, 2016

Jamondria Marnice Harris, Ian Hatcher + Amaranth Borsuk

Wednesday, June 15
7 pm

Passages Bookshop
1223 NE ML King Blvd.

$5 suggested donation for the readers

Jamondria Marnice Harris is a poet & artist living in Portland, Or. She uses words, sounds, wires, instruments, textiles & what falls into her hands to engage with blackness, desire, decolonization, fairy tales, femme supremacy, & body horror. She is a VONA Workshop Fellow & is a participating speaker in home school, a pop up art school facilitated by Manuel Arturo Abreu & Victoria Anne Reis.

Amaranth Borsuk's most recent book of poems is Pomegranate Eater (Kore, 2016). She is the author, with Andy Fitch, of As We Know (Subito, 2014)an erased and redacted diary. Her intermedia project Abra, with Kate Durbin and Ian Hatcher, received an NEA-funded Expanded Artists' Books grant and was recently issued as a limited-edition hand-made book and free iPhone and iPad app. A trade edition has just been released by 1913 Press. She is the author of Handiwork (Slope, 2012); and Between Page and Screen (SpringGun, 2016; Slope, 2012), a book of augmented-reality poems created with Brad Bouse.

Ian Hatcher is a text/sound/code artist, author of Prosthesis (Poor Claudia, 2016) and developer of the poetry app Abra, a collaboration with Amaranth Borsuk and Kate Durbin. His code-inflected vocal performances have been presented widely in the US and Europe. He lives in Brooklyn.


  these are warm days and she

   sits heavy-hipped in plastic

slowly giving in to heat singing deep

from the dirt beneath

her concrete. she stares and whistles low

 against time so as to surprise herself

out of it. she is swallowing each breath

  to give it back and fill herself to

the space between the leaves always

  throttling light from her against finding

limb or contour. of only breath to become

       lean enough to climb the trees to the

houses of others lazy-eye notwithstanding.

  this deep hollow clears her up and up

the stairs before dark, she rescues herself

  at the hour and always intends to stay

but in unceasing panic rises quickly

  above the settling sun.

--Jamondria Marnice Harris

An Ark Or An Art Or Another Mode Of Conveyance


We had measured and measured

the box: hold this, please,

please take the bitter bite, please

brighten or blot out the light.


We waited by the window.

Ranunculi wilted on the nightstand,

weighted down by light. The box

had been prepared.


The heart would not be repaired:

it was inspired. It breathed in light.

We heartened then. We brightened at the core,

we levitated, took up oars, we took on light.


We had a heat.

It was a little bear and feet

trod over us, unlike light. And this,

we learned to lift.

--Amaranth Borsuk


what this is not thinking
what this is not
what this is
what this

this is not thinking what
this is not thinking
this is not
this is

is not thinking what this
is not thinking what
is not thinking
is not

not thinking what this is
not thinking what this
not thinking what
not thinking

thinking what this is not
thinking what this is
thinking what this
thinking what

--Ian Hatcher