Shia Conlon is a writer and artist whose work has been centered around marginalized voices and growing up in the landscape of working-class Catholic Ireland. His research is focused on non-linear time, queer representation, archives, language, and memory.
Additional vocabulary could mean
The fog spilled in
And you were cleaned by it or
The fog rolled in and
Created a halo of blur all around your head
Additional descriptions could mean
You were lost, but — you didn’t feel it
The fog came in and made for you
Your own wholly clouded sky
And
along with it
Sensations
And tools of measurement
for the task ahead
Sky by Shia Conlon
You might also like
READWe hugged each other tightly and quickly let go. With no hope of seeing each other we cried, “Hope to see you soon.”A Journey to Kandahar
READit takes only one time of writing something to call yourself a writer but how long until the title is revoked? just how much non-writing must one indulge in in order to be punishingly excluded? is it a week, a month, a year? or is it until all writing utensils are out of harm’s way, no longer kept at an arm’s reach, or worse, simply no longer reached for?Verdict
READI wake up on somedays In houses with patched walls And a bucket with water in the middle of nowhere On beds with no sheets And stamped up cockroaches at the edge of the bed My hand’s in a pile of ash And my glasses are lost in someone else’s hair I smell smoke and hear snores The only clean thing in the room is a gleaming red guitarFriends and Their Homes
READeven though no one can quite name it everyone knows that something is monstrously missing from me2018
