[Dis]Connected: Poems & Stories of Connection and Otherwise
Sara Bond; Nikita Gill; Pierre Alex Jeanty; Amanda Lovelace; Canisia Lubrin; Trista Mateer; Cyrus Parker; Yena Sharma Purmasir; Liam Ryan; R. H. Swaney; Iain S. Thomas

Humanity exists in a hyper connected world, where our closest friends, loves and enemies lie but a keyboard stroke away. Few know this better than the poets who have risen to the top of their trade by sharing their emotion, opinion and art with millions of fans.

Combining the poetic forces of some of today’s most popular and confessional poets, this book presents poems and short stories about connection wrapped up in a most unique exercise in creative writing. Follow along as your favorite poets connect with each other; offering their poetry to the next poet who tells a story based on the concept presented to them. With poetry, stories and art, [Dis]Connected is a mixed media presentation of connection and collaboration.


That Instrument of Laughter (Poem)
By: Canisia Lubrin

Nowadays I like to say cool
cool cool thrashing my tongue like iguana
Before even a lil wind ruffle my branch

Because that was the dark, that was the dark
between my lips, saying nothing beyond the resolute
So I forlorn, cool?

Wherever you happen to be
Remember the gaped moon, tilt its forehead on the bay
And permits the sun, erasure

Here is where the chronicle of a small life
turned upside down, toward a heavy murmur
lets me make the place of my birth a fiction
Kanata when I really mean Roseau

Or calm, when the heavy hand really rests
there, casting its figure into flesh and heart

I learned to be like the mute, but how to unlearn
contentment with silence, within or without
that sorrow, never the same as the night
though together they share the same start

Here is where to picture the years
of seven and eleven
means unlearning the multiplication tables

that I could only use in a black suit
they were many, they were few

So I traded my calculator for a pencil, cool?
drew icing all over the sky
filled black gutters on white sheets
with fathers like lime losing seed all over de yard

& wished for a rope to pull myself out of the spaces
between sentences

nowadays I can never be cool,
glad to lie on my back
and summon no rain

Parietal Eye (Story)
By: Nikita Gill

Nowadays I say ‘cool cool cool, ’ whenever someone asks me how I am doing,” I remember telling the doctor. She told me to stop, because clearly, I was lying. Sometimes, meaningless sentences get stuck in your head like the only words you can remember to a song you once liked. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell what is real and what is not.

The iguana stares at me as I stumble out of the bathroom. I stare back at its bright green scales, its narrowed eyes, and realise I haven’t fed it yet. I’m not nearly as good as James with timing its meals, but then it’s not my iguana; it belongs to James. I walk to the kitchen to chop some bell peppers and carrots for it.

I lost my husband three months ago, and the sense of loss has followed me like a terrible wound on my heel. A painful, festering thing that has coloured everything I’ve done in darkness.