Adi Magazine

rehumanizing

policy

  • home
  • About
    • About ADI
    • Our team
  • submissions
  • archive
  • Contributors
  • contact
  • Search
  • facebook
  • twitter
  • instagram
  • Newsletter
Share on Facebook
Tweet about it
Share on LinkedIn
Pinterest

to birth laws of relational dark

Close your eyes / in a dark room / and choose / which dark to fear.

  • Leslie McIntosh
  • Kaya Joan
  • December 2024
Illustrated by kaya joan
  • Poem
  • Intervention
Close your eyes
in a dark room
and choose
which dark to fear.
Raise your left hand
and leave it there
until the rings
on your fingers
glow in your mind.
Let this light be
the room’s death.
Say your name
thrice into the black.
Let what you
perceive become
your new name.
There are ships
going to and from
across the blank.
Locate your self
on each. Your dark
is a harbor—
you get to sail off
and come back,
unconditionally.
But know, both
pirates and police
hunt the coast.
For now, attend
to the center
of your island.
Your selves are tied
together, in knots,
writhing in the heart
of your homeland.
They blaze with friction
but there is no pain.
While you watch,
another you crawls
from the shore
to your island’s center.
They ask to join
the you that is
the we. One
of you peels off
to welcome
the newest you
into the folds
of your fold.
None of you
speak the same
language as the rest.
You allow each
other admittance
by their resemblance
to your mother.
Any other face
is fed to the waves
that brought you.
From this point on,
every interaction,
every decision,
is carried by every
you that has survived
the journey
from the water.
Call your selves
the names of people
you have forgotten,
so call your selves
nothing. Nothing
teems the lip
of what you
don’t see.
Trust the dark
that bothered
to name you first.

Leslie McIntosh

Leslie McIntosh (all pronouns respectfully used) has been thinking a lot recently about the relationship between vocal stereotypy,  perseveration, cognitive flexibility, and negative capability. With writing supported by grants and fellowships from the Breadloaf Writers Conference, Jersey City Arts Council, Millay Arts, The Watering Hole, and Zoeglossia, Leslie's work has appeared or is forthcoming in numerous publications, some of which include Beloit Poetry Journal, Fourteen Hills, Indiana Review, Obsidian, Ploughshares, Witness, and elsewhere. Currently a chapbook editor at Newfound: An Inquiry of Place, Leslie lives on the stolen land of the Munsee Lenape, presently known as Jersey City, NJ, USA.

Kaya Joan

Kaya Joan is a multi-disciplinary Afro-Indigenous (Vincentian, Kanien’kehá:ka, Jamaican, settler) artist born and raised in T’karonto, Dish with One Spoon treaty territory, based in what is currently known as Prince Edward County, Haudenosaunee, Anishinaabeg, and Wendat territory. Kaya’s practice explores Black and Indigenous futurity, archival practices, mapping, storytelling, and relationship to place.

‹Also in this Issue›
  • Essay
Exile Wrote Me Twice

Rania Mamoun , Kaya Joan

Writing became a form of rebellion I carried out in ink. And though I feared discovery, what I feared more was losing that fragile space where I could be fully myself.

  • Protest
  • Fiction
How to Read the Air

Tarfa Benson , Kaya Joan

I am only here because they said we are the children of tomorrow.

  • Protest
  • Essay
World Without End

Hannah Keziah Agustin , Kaya Joan

Between us were hopes and dreams rooted in different places, splintering like broken glass in all directions.

  • Protest
  • Poem
Done Right

Esther Lin , Kaya Joan

The beneficiary says, / It’s time to lie down. / The petitioner says, / All right. Yes.

  • Protest
  • Poem
Impulse Control

Jessica Q. Stark , Kaya Joan

What fungus shapes here, what / ever-widening lesion plants / into shapeless nights...

  • Protest
A Soundtrack for Into the Blank

We asked our contributors for Adi's twentieth issue to share music that connected with their writing in some way!

  • Poem
to birth laws of relational dark

Leslie McIntosh , Kaya Joan

Close your eyes / in a dark room / and choose / which dark to fear.

  • Intervention
  • Essay
First Country

Sarah Lubala , Kaya Joan

I am mother-hungry, mother-country-starved…History is etched in my womb.

  • Violence
  • Essay
Fatherland

Ruxandra Guidi , Kaya Joan

Most of my adult life was spent estranged from my father due to differences of political opinion, or as he once told me, “because I refused to obey.”

  • Protest
  • Fiction
Dawn and Her Brother’s Ghost

Jess Masi , Kaya Joan

After your brother disappeared, sometimes you found yourself whispering wishes rather than questions.

  • Protest
  • Essay
Born into Exile

Achiro P. Olwoch , Kaya Joan

Exile is both a privilege and a burden, a refuge and a prison.

  • Intervention
  • Fiction
Live to Eat

Marie Vibbert , Kaya Joan

Eating is a disorder. My whole life I’ve eaten too much or not enough or all the wrong things.

  • Intervention
  • Essay
Touching The Elephant: Notes from a Haitian in the Diaspora

Idrissa Simmonds-Nastili , Kaya Joan

It has always been a failure of both imagination and of historical evidence, to only center Haiti in crisis.

  • Protest
  • Interview
Tracing the Revolution: Yasmin El-Rifae on the Radius and the Afterlives of Political Action 

Nimmi Gowrinathan , Yasmin El-Rifae

You are reckoning, constantly, with the persistence of the past as it is actively being destroyed, this strange temporal struggle within minds and bodies that remember what is being denied.

  • Violence
"With love from ArtLords." This recreated mural was painted by rescued ArtLords artists in exile in 2024, and found a new home in Vermont. Photo credit: ArtLords
  • Art, Interview
From Kabul to the World, One Mural at a Time: An Interview with Omaid Sharifi

Farah Abdessamad , Omaid Sharifi

When we completed a couple of murals, we realized that this movement had the potential to bring a lot of beauty and dialogue to a space that revolved around war.

  • Protest

Adi Magazine rehumanizing
policy

  • home
  • About
  • submissions
  • archive
  • Contributors
  • contact
  • Search
  • facebook
  • twitter
  • instagram
  • Newsletter
© Copyright 2025
  • Site Credits