VQR Online

Even with the challenge of below normal rainfall, spring turned out to be a beautiful time of year at Charlane Plantation. While the drought continues, the good news is that we have had rain at critical times, which for the most part has...

I’m a man, but I like dressing up as a woman, in women’s clothes, wearing lipstick and bracelets and bright rings and women’s shoes.

We were voiceless. We were faceless. We were nameless. And we were completely invisible.

All the beautiful young men,
Muscles etched with birds and names
That would be long-forgotten 

I’m telling you, was always like this: her fingers
around a cold glass, asking me if I really thought her lovely.
In a musky corner booth, thinking only of ourselves. We let one another be 

 A photo essay about The Cradle Project, an art installation designed to call attention to the plight of millions of children orphaned in Sub-Saharan Africa.

The vow was unspoken between them: Once started on their drive into a more northerly part of the state, once embarked upon this journey, they could not turn back.

Nor its manifold mirages, billows and mountains
And mislaid islands shifting by the minute, which nonetheless

Do exist—as image, not as body

I intend to converse with many. None in the same room.
I have a daughter to search for, an acre of farmland to sell.
I must confirm that flour is falling and copper is rising;

It isn’t surprising that the women of Jararaca and its neighboring communities have turned to selling their bodies for a few liters of fuel; exchanging sex for food, money, and now diesel is something of a dark pastime of the region.