The Typescript<p>“A Log,” by George Bowering<br />A Log<br />If a tree fell in the forestfar, far from the nearest animal's ears,<br />but close to a recording devicethat converted words to sounds on a graph,and a scientist retrieved the graph without reading it,<br />and it fell from his helicopterand was burnt to nothing in a forest fire,so no one ever read the graph,<br />had the falling tree made any sound in its fal<br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/a-log-by-george-bowering/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/a-log-by-geo</span><span class="invisible">rge-bowering/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Culture" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Culture</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Environment" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Environment</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Poetry</span></a></p>
mstdn.social is one of the many independent Mastodon servers you can use to participate in the fediverse.
A general-purpose Mastodon server with a 500 character limit. All languages are welcome.
Administered by:
Server stats:
11Kactive users
mstdn.social: About · Status · Profiles directory · Privacy policy · Terms of service
Mastodon: About · Get the app · Keyboard shortcuts · View source code · v4.4.1
#ArtsandLiterature
1 post · 1 participant · 0 posts today
The Typescript<p>“Confessions: Chapter 3: Montréal (1975)” by Ken Norris<br />My “return” to New York in 1973 and 1974 was quite complicated. Inside of eighteen months, I was in and out of the music business and in and out of love. Never to be quite the same person again.<br />But what’s relevant to what comes after this stay in New York is this: I started collaborating w<br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/confessions-chapter-3-montreal-1975-by-ken-norris/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/confessions-</span><span class="invisible">chapter-3-montreal-1975-by-ken-norris/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Arts" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Arts</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ConfessionsOfATrueBeliever" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ConfessionsOfATrueBeliever</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Poetry</span></a></p>
The Typescript<p>“Four Poems,” by Penn Kemp<br /> </p><p>Alphabet for Ashberry<br />For the Rowan Bard, July 28, 1927 - September 3, 2017</p><p>Words in proximity to one another<br />take on another meaning...What you<br />hear at a given moment is a refraction<br />of what’s gone before or after.</p><p>Glorious clumps of crimson berries, brilliant in long<br />September light. Sorbus domestica, a glow<br />from that prolific rose family. Mountain <br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/four-poems-by-penn-kemp/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/four-poems-b</span><span class="invisible">y-penn-kemp/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Commentary" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Commentary</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Poetry</span></a></p>
The Typescript<p>“Confessions: Chapter 2: Bogart (1973-74),” by Ken Norris<br />By the time I was graduating from university in the Spring of 1972, I'd made the decision to go to graduate school. For fifteen minutes, it looked like I’d be following in the footsteps of T.S. Eliot by heading for the British Isles. I had some notion about maybe moving to Dublin and studying Yeats at Tri<br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/confessions-chapter-2-bogart-1973-74-by-ken-norris/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/confessions-</span><span class="invisible">chapter-2-bogart-1973-74-by-ken-norris/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Arts" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Arts</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Essays" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Essays</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Nonfiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Nonfiction</span></a></p>
The Typescript<p>“Imagination,” by Amanda Earl<br />Finding Joy in Difficult Times: Imagination<br />''I am not eccentric. It’s just that I am more alive than most people. I am an unpopular electric eel set in a pond of goldfish.''—Edith Sitwell<br />I have a wild imagination. I have always been driven by it. When I had to face difficult and scary situations, or tedious day-to-day chores, my imagination rescued me. However, when<br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/imagination-by-amanda-earl/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/imagination-</span><span class="invisible">by-amanda-earl/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Nonfiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Nonfiction</span></a></p>
The Typescript<p>Review of Penn Kemp’s LIVES OF DEAD POETS<br />Ghost WritingsKarl JirgensReviewing Penn Kemp’s Lives of Dead Poets(Above/Ground Press, 2025).<br />Penn Kemp’s latest poetry collection, Lives of Dead Poets, is published by Above/Ground Press, 2025. The cover features images by Penn Kemp’s father. This publication features rob mclennan’s utilitarian design with colour cover and black an<br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/review-of-penn-kemps-lives-of-dead-poets/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/review-of-pe</span><span class="invisible">nn-kemps-lives-of-dead-poets/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Books" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Books</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Reviews" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Reviews</span></a></p>
The Typescript<p>“Auguries of this Inauguration,” by Penn Kemp<br />January 20, 2025<br />This Awful Inauguration Day augurs dimly for most, and we are not even in the United States. The world awaits<br />uncertain of outcome, certain only thatmeanness prevails of heart and intent.We’ve dropped into the well of offal.<br />An Awful Inauguration Day augurs wellfor the unduly rich but poorly for poordisp<br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/auguries-of-this-inauguration-by-penn-kemp/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/auguries-of-</span><span class="invisible">this-inauguration-by-penn-kemp/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Culture" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Culture</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Politics" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Politics</span></a></p>
The Typescript<p>“Blues for a Mother,” by Wade Cravath Bell<br />It billowed from the kitchen like odors from a greasy frypan. His mother’s music. Parker hated country. Detested the twang. He suffered from bouts of depression and the music seemed a cruel accompaniment to the downs. Upstairs on his bed, headphones on, he drowned out the offending noise first with Monk then Chet Baker.<br />Family lore had it that th<br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/blues-for-a-mother-by-wade-cravath-bell/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/blues-for-a-</span><span class="invisible">mother-by-wade-cravath-bell/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Fiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Fiction</span></a></p>
The Typescript<p>“Photo-Works,” by Karl Jirgens<br />TV Images Taken During a Storm<br /> </p><p> <br /> <br /> </p><p> <br />Images by Karl Jirgens<br /> <br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/photo-works-by-karl-jirgens/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/photo-works-</span><span class="invisible">by-karl-jirgens/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Media" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Media</span></a></p>
The Typescript<p>“Two Poems and Two Paintings for 2025,” by Penn Kemp<br />Two Poems and Two PaintingsOne for winter. One for spring.One for the present. One for oncoming.<br /> <br />What Matters</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Red Blue Splash", a painting by Jim Kemp: Originally published in The Vernacular Journalhttps://vernacularjournal.com/What-Matters.<br /> <br />All Things Con<br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/two-poems-and-two-paintings-for-2025-by-penn-kemp/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/two-poems-an</span><span class="invisible">d-two-paintings-for-2025-by-penn-kemp/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Commentary" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Commentary</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Culture" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Culture</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Politics" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Politics</span></a></p>
The Typescript<p>“The Day Michael Died,” by Zeke Richardson<br /> <br />Winding along a crooked road of a mighty mountain down to the Columbia River on a grey dayin east Oregon hundreds of miles away and hours after he died.I’d just called him. We hadn’t talked for a while. Maybe I left a message. Maybe not. I missedhim, you see, wanted to hear his voice, his laugh, to share what was on my mind, hear wh<br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/the-day-michael-died-by-zeke-richardson/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/the-day-mich</span><span class="invisible">ael-died-by-zeke-richardson/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Essays" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Essays</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/FirstPerson" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>FirstPerson</span></a></p>
The Typescript<p>“The early days of filling Station as I remember them,” by Blaine Kyllo<br />filling Station was actually a t-shirt company that happened to also publish a literary magazine.</p><p>The first t-shirt was just a black and white screen of the image from the first issue's cover. The most memorable shirt was a word search. Russ Bugera, our <br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/the-early-days-of-filling-station-as-i-remember-them-by-blaine-kyllo/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/the-early-da</span><span class="invisible">ys-of-filling-station-as-i-remember-them-by-blaine-kyllo/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/FillingStationTribute" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>FillingStationTribute</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Nonfiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Nonfiction</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Poetry</span></a></p>
The Typescript<p>Petition/Wojie: Two Poems<br />Petition<br />Emily Brewster<br />Regarding heaven,<br />can it please be this:<br />the universe again<br />and us conscious in it<br />and able to send that consciousness<br />into anything<br />First, I would be a bird<br />start as an egg just fertilized<br />feel my cells divide, divide, divide<br />the swell of my body forming<br />until the pressure of the shell was all aroun<br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/petition-wojie-two-poems/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/petition-woj</span><span class="invisible">ie-two-poems/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/LAVACenter" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>LAVACenter</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/poems" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>poems</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/TheLavaCenter" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>TheLavaCenter</span></a></p>
The Typescript<p>Three Poems by Daniel Hales<br />How To Become The Harbormaster<br /> Daniel Hales<br />for Ursula K. Le Guin and REM</p><p>Digesting shipping routes tides<br />signal chain of underground cables<br />is fine for an apprentice</p><p>but master must knit her harborcoat<br />of cove breeze and cormorant feathers<br />lace harborboots with strips of kelp</p><p>stride white caps<br />during <br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/three-poems-by-daniel-hales/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/three-poems-</span><span class="invisible">by-daniel-hales/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/LAVACenter" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>LAVACenter</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/poems" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>poems</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/TheLavaCenter" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>TheLavaCenter</span></a></p>
The Typescript<p>Have You Ever Won/What is This About: Two Poems<br />Have You Ever Won<br /> Candace Curran<br />an argument with the moon<br />begged safe conduct<br />safe passage<br />ever managed to keep your<br />mouth shut promised to<br />change your wicked ways<br />Ever drop to your knees<br />on the chain gang of<br />lunatic daughters<br />caught in doorways<br />tangled and tongue tied<br />n<br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/have-you-ever-won-what-is-this-about-two-poems/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/have-you-eve</span><span class="invisible">r-won-what-is-this-about-two-poems/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/LAVACenter" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>LAVACenter</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/poems" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>poems</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/TheLavaCenter" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>TheLavaCenter</span></a></p>
The Typescript<p>Noisy Flowers/Teacher! Teacher!: Two Poems<br />Noisy Flowers<br />Christian McEwan<br /> from In Praise of Listening Chapter 7: The Little<br />Sounds of Every Day<br />My mother was alone in the sitting room when a strange<br />creaking sound caught her ear. What was it? She paused to<br />listen more carefully and realized that what she’d heard was<br />the sound<br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/noisy-flowers-teacher-teacher-two-poems/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/noisy-flower</span><span class="invisible">s-teacher-teacher-two-poems/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/LAVACenter" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>LAVACenter</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/poems" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>poems</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/TheLavaCenter" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>TheLavaCenter</span></a></p>
The Typescript<p>“Be Careful With That Match! A 25-Year Retrospective on filling Station Magazine,” by Marc Herman Lynch<br />This article was previously published on Marc Herman Lynch's website to mark the 25-year anniversary of filling Station magazine. To research filling Station's beginnings, Lynch met with Shirley Brander<br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/be-careful-with-that-match-a-25-year-retrospective-on-filling-station-magazine-by-marc-herman-lynch/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/be-careful-w</span><span class="invisible">ith-that-match-a-25-year-retrospective-on-filling-station-magazine-by-marc-herman-lynch/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/FillingStationTribute" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>FillingStationTribute</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Nonfiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Nonfiction</span></a></p>
The Typescript<p>Just as we weep<br />Just as we weep when reunited with some friend we lost years ago- for there is a sadness that flows unhindered, an over-quarried put- do we in turn weep when we meet death, due to the realization that we are finally uniting once again with all we came from?</p><p>When joy and despair separately become so great in their surge that they coalesce into one<br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/just-as-we-weep/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/just-as-we-w</span><span class="invisible">eep/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/LAVACenter" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>LAVACenter</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/poem" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>poem</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/poet" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>poet</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/TheLavaCenter" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>TheLavaCenter</span></a></p>
The Typescript<p>Water of Thanks<br />(After Ross Gay)<br />Thank you to the beanstalk-boy with corn husk hair, who pumped my tires full on this misty Massachusetts morning.<br />Thank you to the morning for blanketing me, soft; touch of a lover’s breath.<br />Thank you for knowing I needed to be touched, today of all days, this year of all years.<br />Thank you to the years for showing me the touch of<br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/water-of-thanks/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/water-of-tha</span><span class="invisible">nks/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/LAVACenter" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>LAVACenter</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/poem" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>poem</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/poet" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>poet</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/poetry" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>poetry</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/TheLavaCenter" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>TheLavaCenter</span></a></p>
The Typescript<p>“Aritha van Herk,” by Wade Cravath Bell<br />Aritha van Herk and I last met as we were leaving Shelf Life Books in Calgary after a reading. We hadn’t talked in years, but we constructed a street corner conversation as if continuing one from the moment before. She said she’d read my latest book. First lady of Calgary letters, a writer and scholar whose body of work is riva<br /><a href="https://thetypescript.com/aritha-van-herk-by-wade-cravath-bell/" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">thetypescript.com/aritha-van-h</span><span class="invisible">erk-by-wade-cravath-bell/</span></a><br /><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/ArtsAndLiterature" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>ArtsAndLiterature</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/FillingStationTribute" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>FillingStationTribute</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Nonfiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Nonfiction</span></a></p>
TrendingLive feeds
Mastodon is the best way to keep up with what's happening.
Follow anyone across the fediverse and see it all in chronological order. No algorithms, ads, or clickbait in sight.
Create accountLoginDrag & drop to upload