I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.
Category Archives: Sound of the Underland
A Life in Three Parts.
This piece wasn’t written to win—it was written to survive. River’s Pride Under Pressure winner is a raw, unfiltered reflection on trauma, transition, and love. That it was recognised means more than we can say. It’s proof that truth, even when it hurts, resonates.
Dispatches from the Void. X.II
The wardrobe has vanished, the neighbour’s smoking crack, and Zionists are being platformed while dissent is muted. We’re packing, protesting, and somehow still writing. Rage, rain, and resistance: another week in Underland.
For When They Drag Me Off to Prison.
for when they drag me off to prison.
not if — when.
new poem. no metaphors. just betrayal, blue bracelets, and the quiet violence of your vote.
read it.
then ask yourself what you’ll tell your children.
Art Under Siege
I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.
We Wont Be Going to Pride this Year.
Pride was never meant to be comfortable. It was meant to be revolutionary. We may not be marching this year, but we are still protesting—with our voices, our words, and our refusal to be silent. Because Pride is not a parade. It’s a fight for visibility, justice, and truth.
Art Under Siege
I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.
In Defense of Modern Poetry.
Modern poetry is not the death of poetry. It’s the mirror. Queer and trans poets like Danez Smith, Joshua Jennifer Espinoza, and Jayy Dodd write their bodies back into the world. Indigenous poets like Natalie Diaz, Selina Boan, and Craig Santos Perez speak their languages across page and performance. This isn’t poetry’s decline — it’s its expansion. To say otherwise is to mistake tradition for stagnation.
Art Under Siege: Bisan Owda
I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.
Dispatches from the Void. X.II
Rain, rabies, and ridiculous returns. This week’s mood? Bureaucratic despair with a side of soggy capitalism. But hey—we’re still packing, still protesting, and still clinging to the dream (and maybe a cat).
