Meet Our New Intern: Gabriel L’Heureux

A headshot of a white man from the chest and up. Blurred background is foliage and a building. He has short brown hair and a beard, and he is wearing a short-sleeve button-up tartan shirt.

As a kid, I had a thirst for knowledge, as well as an incredibly overactive imagination. I would frequently race through books, finding that I finished them in less than a day. The library was my best friend for the longest time. I could read as much as I wanted and would not hear the complaints from my parents about wanting more expensive books that I would race through. Regardless, I was still a huge fan of the Scholastic Book Fair every time I would see it. Even if everything was super unaffordable there for my family, I would always get super excited just looking through all of the different things they were selling.

A very obvious difference between my older brother and I was our attitude towards reading and books. When he would receive a punishment or a timeout, he would be shunned to his room and only given books as entertainment. When I would receive a punishment or a timeout, however, I would have all my books taken away. My books and reading were my main sources of entertainment as a kid. They took me into other worlds, other realities, where I could forget my own existence for a while and step into the words on the page.

My love for reading extended to writing as well. In second grade, I wrote my first short story and submitted it for a contest my elementary school was holding across all the grade levels. In hindsight, I fully understand why I only received a participation ribbon; I had written with Crayola markers on copy paper to tell my story. In addition to that, I drew pictures depicting some scenes of the story. The rough plot was that society had started to collapse because of the zombie apocalypse; however, the protagonist was able to save the world using the power of peanut butter. They realized that if they put peanut butter in the zombies’ mouths, then the zombies would be smacking their mouths too much to bite someone. As I said previously, I had quite the overactive imagination.

Despite this love for reading and writing, it took me several years to fully realize that this was my passion. For the majority of my life, I had planned to be a medical doctor because my goal, ever since I was very little, was to help people. In my kid mind, the best way to do that would be to become a medical doctor. It took a while, but I eventually realized that I do not excel at STEM in the slightest, nor do I have a passion for it. I thought about everything and finally clearly saw that I could help people in so many other professions. After giving it a lot of thought, I realized that I want to become a public librarian.

Coupling my love of reading and writing with all of the experiences I’ve had while I have been a student at Berry College—working at the campus Writing Center, presenting my research on a panel at the 2026 SWCA (Southeastern Writing Center Association) Conference, being the President of the campus queer advocacy club (Listen) for the 2025-26 academic year, being a freshman mentor for the class of 2029, and more—I have learned where my true passions lie. I want to help people find the information they need or find the world they need to escape into. Librarians are more important now than ever, and I want to aid the effort to bring people together to form a real community.


Gabriel L’Heureux (he/they) is an intern at Sundress Publications. He grew up in Illinois, but he has lived in Georgia since age 11 and never left. He is almost done with his BA in Creative Writing with a minor in Women’s & Gender Studies from Berry College. He is applying to graduate schools with the aim to start his MLS program in the fall of 2027. He has a Siamese cat named Mochi, who is a haughty little princess. He is known for writing poetry and short fiction that frequently evokes fear or melancholy—his work thrives in the dark. He reads any and all types of literature, as long as it piques his interest.

An Interview with Jessica Doe, Author of sp[RED]

With the release of her new poetry collection, sp[RED], Jessica Doe spoke with Sundress Publications Intern Corina Yi to discuss the decolonization of the Smith-Rider-Waite tarot deck, the fluidity of identity across roles and generations, and the refusal to be seen as monstrous, reclaimed through body horror.

Corina Yi: The collection opens with the poem “The Fool” and ends with “King of Cups.” What is the significance of titling the poems after tarot cards?

Jessica Doe: The purpose of this entire collection is to decolonize/Indigenize the Smith-Rider-Waite tarot deck, so it’s less of a “significance” and more of the core of the collection (the titles came ready-made). I learned on this deck as a child. Beginning with The Fool is simply because that is the first card in the major arcana. I chose which suit followed (wands, pentacles, swords, or cups) based largely on a tempering of how the suits “speak” to each other. Of course, the cup suit relates to emotions and a more feminine energy. The King cards, of course, are the “close” of any suit, but I thought it important to end with the emotionally-fueled suit that is inherently “fluid” and ever-moving. The poem for King of Cups also inverts the (false) idea many people have of the Santa Maria “landing” on Turtle Island. In this poem, it sinks (same as it did in reality).

CY: Can you speak on the collection’s relationship to Indigenous heritage, family, and decolonization?
 
JD: This is a very broad question and, in the end, I can really only speak to my experience as an Indigenous person (and to some degree, but much, much lesser, the shared experiences of my community and tribe). The answer to this could be a lengthy article (or more). To keep it short, I will say that I was raised being taught tarot on the Smith-Rider-Waite deck—as many people were. It was the most readily available and popular deck at the time. Even as a child, the white, heteronormative, colonial, racist, fat-phobic-ness of the deck was clear, even when I didn’t have the overt experience and language for it. The purpose of the collection is to reimagine this specific deck through the only lens I have: that of an Indigenous person. Given the biblical elements of the original deck (along with all the issues I listed above), this called for a lot of deeper dives and inversions/subversions of the original images in order to dismantle them and make them more “usable” to an Indigenous audience. Of course, to the deck’s credit, there are also many esoteric and occult-ish elements as well, which is also explored in the collection.

CY: The narratives in this collection are generational, positioning the narrator as sometimes a mother, a daughter, a wife—which speaks to this idea that we are many things all at once, at any given time. For you, how does this translate into your feminist writing praxis?
 
JD: Well, I’m writing from my own lens as we all do, intentionally or not (which, yes, in part, is that of a mother/daughter/wife), and this also happens to echo the trifecta of achieving what some Eurocentric people often call crone status. Being “many things as once” isn’t, for me, strictly a feminist idea or position. We all are, all the time. Sometimes the speaker is also a male, and it’s also not the same speaker throughout necessarily. The mother/daughter/wife positioning isn’t intended to be “feminist writing” but rather a somewhat common navigation that many of us experience and traverse daily.

CY: Tell me more about your choice of language, syntax, and form, especially in poems such as “2 of Cups” and “9 of Cups,” which appear more structurally experimental.
 
JD: I often write in hybrid of experimental forms (including a previous collection written in a very restrictive sort of reverse form). The tarot deck itself can be seen as quite structured in some readings (i.e. Celtic Cross) or it can be seemingly feral. I have worked extensively with erasure/blackout poetry (as in 2 of Cups) and previously spent an academic year at Notre Dame working with their archives and the creation of a series of erasure poems. I also have a solid background in concrete poems, such as 9 of cups, and sometimes it just feels like a poem (or any piece of writing) wants to be in a specific visual shape. The two listed here are also both in the cups suit, so perhaps that fluidity and leaning more on the emotional aspect lends itself to a more explorative form.
 
CY: I’m curious about the recurring image of monsters and body horror throughout this collection, especially in relation to processing violence and grief.

JD: Well, I’m a horror writer (in prose) and tend to lean especially towards body horror in both my writing and preferences. There are probably numerous reasons for that, but I grew up with horror and that’s always been my preferred genre in film (and, as an early reader and then circling back to now, with books). My scholarly background is in eating disorders, and if you look at the history of these disorders, well before they were named, the “monstrous” is quite prevalent (Cronus, for example). Eating disorders are also a colonial import, of course. My story that opens the collection Never Whistle at Night 2: Back for Blood, “Miss Cherokee Princess 1996,” examines this in a prose means. For me, “horror” is not about processing violence or grief, though perhaps that’s a colonial reading of the horror elements I use (particularly Indigenous horror), but rather an act of reclamation and refusal of being named as the grotesque (both as a woman and an Indigenous person). Indigenous people have historically been either the monstrous (other) or the magical saviors in horror with special powers to guide the white hero. However, we have lived horror in a different sense since contact—for us, the monstrous is not often binary, but oftentimes a part of history that has been skewed by outsiders and given a new name and purpose.
 
CY: What is the significance/function of using “I” and “we” in this collection? How much of the narrator’s first-person perspective is borrowed from your personal perspective? Is it rather supposed to be understood as a collective identity?”

JD: Rather simply, because as a poet I was raised with the works of confessional poets (though of course that term was long ago regretted by its namer/maker). The I/we speaker is what I was most comfortable with for years because we often write similar to what we read. However, I am solidly of the camp that the poet and speaker(s) should always be considered separate unless the poet explicitly states that a work is autobiographical. I have never stated that for any poem in this collection, though of course every writer is fed and informed by their experiences. I do often feel like I should say, because it has long been inferred by others: my father never sexually abused me in any manner (nor did any other father figure type in my life). Poems like Emperor, which is written in first person, tend to make readers think that (and since my father is dead, he would have no means of defending himself). This is just one example of many, but perhaps the most damning. I explore the ugly, I’m drawn to it, and incestual rape is perhaps the most horrific of things that a person can experience (though I do not write of this from my own experience). I say all this to (re)stress the importance of not reading autobiography into any work.

CY: You write: “Yes, but what / about a woman? We are sovereign / bodies, life-making, life-sustaining archipelagos / of history, buoyant keys, riders / of turtle backs and / dethroners of kings.” Can you speak on the insistence of including body politics in feminist poetry?
 
JD: “Body politic” is a rather new term for what many Indigenous people (especially women who, like me, who come from matrilineal groups) simply thought of as the norm. The I is the we, and to some degree vice versa. Is it “insistent” in my work, or this collection? I don’t particularly think so, it just is.
 
CY: How does your poetry speak to ongoing conversations about intersectional identities?
 
JD: I think such discourse is so overabundant and overwhelming that it can probably be tied into any such discussion. The majority of us, I imagine, claim various identities including conflicting identities at any time. That is part of the fallout of colonization, evolution, language, and progress. That being said, there are also quite a few people like me, who claim the same identifies, so my hope is that some readers will find themselves in some of these poems (or, at least, some of their Selves).

sp[RED] is available to order now!


Jessica Doe, PhD is an Aniyunwiya inter/multi/anti-disciplinary writer, artist, and scholar and a citizen of the Cherokee Nation. Her work explores space, place, Indigenization, decolonization, poetry, and embodiment across scholarship and creative practice. A former Fulbright Senior Scholar, she is currently writing an Indigenous short horror collection grounded in Indigeneity.

Corina Yi (she/her) is a student at Pomona College studying English and Creative Writing. She serves as the Editor-in-Chief of Agave Review, the literary magazine at the Claremont Colleges consortium. She likes collecting postcards, drinking tea, cafe hopping, and going on spontaneous adventures. Her Instagram is @corinayii, so feel free to say hi!

The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Beautiful Outlaw by Jennifer Perrine


This feature, chosen by Guest Editor dez brown, is from Beautiful Outlaw by Jennifer Perrine (Kelsey Street Press 2025).

DEAR GHOST,

Here I am, at the festival, reading
poems about you. No, that’s not true.

I’m reading poems about those last days
when you were on the cusp of ghosthood

and I did not believe it, could not yet
perceive it. I tell the tales of how

you grew into my phantom companion,
and the audience delivers me

sagging bouquets of pity. They assume
you are a metaphor, a portal

through which I release my grief. They cannot
see how even now, you’re perusing

the book fair behind them, trying to leaf
through pages and failing. They cannot

know how you hardly ever leave my side
even when I am wicked and cry

for you to go or else to stop hiding
from passersby who look away, shake




their heads when I speak to you. You let them
pass their unfamiliar limbs right through

your once-skin. I am jealous of such touch,
your intimacy with each person

who sits beside me on the bus, who leans
close in the grocery aisle, reaching

into your skull for salt or cereal.
When I tell my therapist of this

envy, he asks, do you think you’re lonely?
What he means is, I think you’re lonely.

I remember lonely: nights when you still
had a body, began folding it

into the opposite end of the couch
from me, resting it there when I went

to our bed. I remember desolate:
the ruins of your mouth when you said,

poetry just isn’t my thing, despite
years when you’d sing my name when you came

across it in a table of contents,
declaim each verse to our throng of dogs.




Now, journals slouch in heaps, like the dishes
rank in the sink, like your possessions

I have placed on a chair with the intent
of donation. I sometimes find you

perched there, as if you do not care to part
with your threadbare quilt, your shirt I wore

and did not wash until it lost your scent.
My therapist asks, when will you let

yourself really feel this death?
I feel less
sure of what you are thinking these days,

as I read lines about you to full rooms
in which you’re the only soul I know.

It’s been a year, and I haven’t outgrown
these incantations. If I can’t stop

these summonings, all I ask is for you
to behave for once like a proper

poltergeist, to flicker the lights, to fling
some blunt cutlery or slam a door

with the force of your presence. All I ask
is that you make some mischief, menace

me just enough so that I recall you
were not always this kind, as placid

as you appear now, slant of light falling
through your sheer shoulder. All I ask is

that you find the chain that binds me to you
and if you cannot break it, rattle

that shackle, smack it against the windows
until they shatter, let your rumble

and clatter loose, let your spirit smolder
with effort until the whole living

world witnesses these marks you leave, until
I am not your only beholder.


Jennifer (JP) Perrine’s (any/all) most recent book, Beautiful Outlaw, was the recipient of the QTBIPOC Book Prize and the Stafford/Hall Prize for Poetry. Perrine is the author of four previous books of poetry: Again, The Body Is No Machine, In the Human Zoo, and No Confession, No Mass. Their other recent work appears in the anthologies Best Small Fictions, Uncertain Girls in Uncertain Times, and A Mouth Holds Many Things: A De-Canon Hybrid Lit Collection. A two-time winner of Arts and Culture Diversity and Inclusion Awards from the Asian American Journalists Association, JP lives in Portland, where they cohost the Incite: Queer Writers Read series, guide nature and forest therapy retreats, and manage an equity and environmental justice program for the state of Oregon.

dr. dez brown (they/he), publishing as dezireé a. brown, is a Black queer nonbinary and transmasculine Pushcart Prize–nominated poet and interdisciplinary scholar, born and raised in Flint, MI. Their debut collection of poetry, they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming, was the winner of the Joe W. Bratcher Prize and a finalist for the 2026 Leslie Feinberg Award for Trans and Gender-Variant Literature. Often claiming to have been born with a poem written across his chest, he spends much of his time gaming and plays a mean hand of spades. Follow them online at @deziree.the.writer.


The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Beautiful Outlaw by Jennifer Perrine


This feature, chosen by Guest Editor dez brown, is from Beautiful Outlaw by Jennifer Perrine (Kelsey Street Press 2025).

SPELL TO LEAVE BEHIND A LIFE

Nothing was basic in that place, the fence
triple concertina, the dirt I carved
into trenches, burrowed with my bare arms,
each mark I made a stay against the fire,
bombardment in the dark.
                                                  What I return
to is home. What I call Spartan is so
because I had to prepare, make ready
for war, fitted with nothing but a bed,
a sheath for my sword.
                                           What I once called peace
dissolved easy, fat on my tongue, dusted
fine powder over the sleep where my teeth
would bury themselves in each other. Home
became a story best told at dusk, thread
sharpened with spit, needle meant to suture
but first to pierce.
                                  I left as carrion
leaves the animal who once believed flesh
necessary for life. I sliced my pelt,
slit it wide enough for home to slip through
that opening made by my hand, my knife.


Jennifer (JP) Perrine’s (any/all) most recent book, Beautiful Outlaw, was the recipient of the QTBIPOC Book Prize and the Stafford/Hall Prize for Poetry. Perrine is the author of four previous books of poetry: Again, The Body Is No Machine, In the Human Zoo, and No Confession, No Mass. Their other recent work appears in the anthologies Best Small Fictions, Uncertain Girls in Uncertain Times, and A Mouth Holds Many Things: A De-Canon Hybrid Lit Collection. A two-time winner of Arts and Culture Diversity and Inclusion Awards from the Asian American Journalists Association, JP lives in Portland, where they cohost the Incite: Queer Writers Read series, guide nature and forest therapy retreats, and manage an equity and environmental justice program for the state of Oregon.

dr. dez brown (they/he), publishing as dezireé a. brown, is a Black queer nonbinary and transmasculine Pushcart Prize–nominated poet and interdisciplinary scholar, born and raised in Flint, MI. Their debut collection of poetry, they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming, was the winner of the Joe W. Bratcher Prize and a finalist for the 2026 Leslie Feinberg Award for Trans and Gender-Variant Literature. Often claiming to have been born with a poem written across his chest, he spends much of his time gaming and plays a mean hand of spades. Follow them online at @deziree.the.writer.


The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Beautiful Outlaw by Jennifer Perrine


This feature, chosen by Guest Editor dez brown, is from Beautiful Outlaw by Jennifer Perrine (Kelsey Street Press 2025).

ISOLATION

Editors’ Note: Given the formatting of this poem, it is best viewed as below in an uploaded PDF format.

Jennifer (JP) Perrine’s (any/all) most recent book, Beautiful Outlaw, was the recipient of the QTBIPOC Book Prize and the Stafford/Hall Prize for Poetry. Perrine is the author of four previous books of poetry: Again, The Body Is No Machine, In the Human Zoo, and No Confession, No Mass. Their other recent work appears in the anthologies Best Small Fictions, Uncertain Girls in Uncertain Times, and A Mouth Holds Many Things: A De-Canon Hybrid Lit Collection. A two-time winner of Arts and Culture Diversity and Inclusion Awards from the Asian American Journalists Association, JP lives in Portland, where they cohost the Incite: Queer Writers Read series, guide nature and forest therapy retreats, and manage an equity and environmental justice program for the state of Oregon.

dr. dez brown (they/he), publishing as dezireé a. brown, is a Black queer nonbinary and transmasculine Pushcart Prize–nominated poet and interdisciplinary scholar, born and raised in Flint, MI. Their debut collection of poetry, they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming, was the winner of the Joe W. Bratcher Prize and a finalist for the 2026 Leslie Feinberg Award for Trans and Gender-Variant Literature. Often claiming to have been born with a poem written across his chest, he spends much of his time gaming and plays a mean hand of spades. Follow them online at @deziree.the.writer.


The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Beautiful Outlaw by Jennifer Perrine


This feature, chosen by Guest Editor dez brown, is from Beautiful Outlaw by Jennifer Perrine (Kelsey Street Press 2025).

I FOUND THE BULLETS, BUT I DID NOT FIND YOUR GUN

And so I was left to inspect the house, each crack
where doubt crept in: the sash of the bathroom window
shattered beneath a burden of ice, collapsed sacks

of flour that released a dusty eclipse of moths
when I lifted them. Each inch of our home became
the vault in which you might have kept your weapon safe:

behind stacked cans of sage green paint, beneath secret
panels in the pantry where we once hid gifts from
each other, up the chimney, under the mattress

on which I revolved in the hushed chambers of sleep.
The gun was all hypothesis, experiment
I could test like that cat in the box: now alive,

now dead. It was better to be unsure whether
the gun did or didn’t exist, whether it had
or hadn’t been fired, whether you aimed it at self-

healing targets at the range or in the forest.
The gun was conditional logic, a question
of reason: If he keeps the bullets tucked in with

the bottles, where does he keep the gun?
I hunted
through your nightstand, through the box that held your folded
flag. I squeezed into the crawl space, unzipped the bag

you carried back from a distant desert. I dug
up the garden beds you’d tended, searching for what
you might have planted among the mole holes and mulch.

Even now, in a new house, with a new garden,
new body beside me in bed, I scour each nook,
each recess of our old address. I trace my steps

through that memory palace, trying to retrieve
some clue, some overlooked hint of what you concealed
in the camouflage of your face—always at ease—

some evidence of what you were about to do.


Jennifer (JP) Perrine’s (any/all) most recent book, Beautiful Outlaw, was the recipient of the QTBIPOC Book Prize and the Stafford/Hall Prize for Poetry. Perrine is the author of four previous books of poetry: Again, The Body Is No Machine, In the Human Zoo, and No Confession, No Mass. Their other recent work appears in the anthologies Best Small Fictions, Uncertain Girls in Uncertain Times, and A Mouth Holds Many Things: A De-Canon Hybrid Lit Collection. A two-time winner of Arts and Culture Diversity and Inclusion Awards from the Asian American Journalists Association, JP lives in Portland, where they cohost the Incite: Queer Writers Read series, guide nature and forest therapy retreats, and manage an equity and environmental justice program for the state of Oregon.

dr. dez brown (they/he), publishing as dezireé a. brown, is a Black queer nonbinary and transmasculine Pushcart Prize–nominated poet and interdisciplinary scholar, born and raised in Flint, MI. Their debut collection of poetry, they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming, was the winner of the Joe W. Bratcher Prize and a finalist for the 2026 Leslie Feinberg Award for Trans and Gender-Variant Literature. Often claiming to have been born with a poem written across his chest, he spends much of his time gaming and plays a mean hand of spades. Follow them online at @deziree.the.writer.


Sundress Reads: Review of Different With Him

Diving into the rawness of modern trans adolescence, mk zariel’s chapbook Different With Him (Rockwood Press, 2026) follows a transmasculine anarchist youth embracing their identity while wrestling with social narratives and heartbreak. A desire to become and find acceptance through late-night chats and texts are layered within zariel’s informal, magnetic prose.

zariel sets the contemporary tone with their opening poem “buzzfeed quizzes for the desperate.” Readers are given the image of a person so socially isolated and fearful of their surroundings that their recourse is engaging with opinions of random strangers on the internet. We’re given clues that the sardonic speaker of this poem is aware that the one accessing the quizzes is running away from facing their darkness and pain, hoping to find an “easy” technological fix like many youths of our time. Vapid opinions mock the person by dancing around their actual wants. zariel writes:

“pick three people to cast off &
we’ll tell you what the hell your problem is—
—make a mixtape of muffled screams
to find out the ache of your aura…
—spend a weekend in your ideal life & we’ll tell you
how your real one grew wings & traipsed away
in the rain with your lost friends“ (9).

The poems that follow layer this with a determined main speaker, someone who would have accessed those types of quizzes during their hesitations to be themselves. “voices” is a literal title: the speaker takes in willful ignorance from relatives, spectators, and their therapist. Their internalized transphobia is characterized as a contradictory angel in their mind, with their truest, suppressed desires acting as the shy, dissenting devil. The speaker eventually empowers themselves by taking concrete action: throwing away their dresses. They accept that words can be weapons, yet they “melt them down and make them shining armor for [their] new bodymind” (11). A powerful reclamation that illuminates through a massive fog of words on the page; it’s wonderful how precise the imagery of a transmasculine identity becomes in my mind.

Yet the irony of the speaker’s alleged confidence is that they spend a great deal of the chapbook mourning their sense of belonging and ultimate loss of a relationship with a cisgender boy. Their bond begins as an intellectual friendship and loyalty to the other, finding common ground through their anarchist beliefs and discussions about dead theorists. Like many adolescents struggling to find acceptance, the speaker is a lonely one. They idolize the boy, and project onto the boy who they wish he was rather than seeing him as he is. zariel writes:

“…i chose you because it was
the summer of ‘23 at the time, & nothing seemed weird compared
to the ANews comments, which means you’re
normal & i’m loved
i look awkward in the mosh pit, that night you
just stay in & read” (14).

Because the boy didn’t openly mock the speaker and their beliefs, and asked constantly if he had offended them or not with his remarks, the speaker believes that the boy is being considerate of their transmasculinity and that they are the same. They try to convince themself of their truth by recommending an anarchist zine to the boy. When that same zine leads to an abrupt end to their relationship, with the boy ghosting them and staging events without them, the speaker spirals into confusion and despair over the two years they had together.

Healing from the sudden loss is messy. In “retrospective,” they grieve by dressing in clothes they believe the boy will like, hoping that the boy will someday come back. They “catalog every memory they have of him, one of which actually happened, but all the others sound much more real” (17). In their loneliness, the speaker, “the lost (girl)boy” teaches AI to text like the missing boy, “break[ing] open” (18) when the impersonator begins to sound too much like him. It’s an unfortunately familiar tale of heartache when someone doesn’t live up to our expectations. I teared up while reading this honest piece of loss.

Anger trails in the wake, as often comes with mourning, and with it comes clarity no longer clouded by luminescence. The speaker begins to see the warts of the boy who left them hanging as he continues to carry on the wisps of familiarity. He wishes to know where they are, even though the speaker gave the luddite their location. What once seemed generous acts from the boy now feels fake and misplaced, the speaker justifiably exasperated by the audacity.
zariel writes:

“& i was your beloved once,
but now i am your IT department
or your mortal enemy
i haven’t decided” (20).

What I found compelling about the ending poem is that the speaker continues to mourn the boy, venting to their therapist about their hurt over his 1AM text to them. However, they are clearer on who they want to become: a person who desires love “without being wrapped in the silver film of personhood—… craves tender declamations over shouts” (22). It removes pretentiousness, validates the pain felt in loss, and brings back into focus their queer acceptance, one that the speaker now knows remains outside of the boy’s nervousness around them. It’s that self acceptance that brings joy to my heart.

Different With Him is a brief and mighty twenty-four pages. I hope zariel’s poems are savored and give trans youth hope to never settle for less.

Different With Him is available through Rockwood Press


Heather Takenaga is a poet and writer born and raised in Riverside, CA. She is currently writing short stories and poetry. When she is not volunteering, she is drooling for cat cuddles, moonlit walks, and a reading vacation.





The Wardrobe’s Best Dressed: Beautiful Outlaw by Jennifer Perrine


This feature, chosen by Guest Editor dez brown, is from Beautiful Outlaw by Jennifer Perrine (Kelsey Street Press 2025).

ASHES

I keep my mother on the shelf. The urn fits my fingers, though I never pull it down. When I
received it, how weightless it felt, no different in size or heft from my bottle of pills, thirty
white discs settled to its bottom, so much volume unoccupied. In her vessel, does she reside
only in the tiniest line of dust, the rest just emptiness stretched over her? I refuse to let my
curiosity be piqued. I’ve never peered inside, not once through the sixteen months it’s posed

on that ledge, brazen, coaxing me to lift the lid, to find her reduced to grit. I’ve got only
a token bit of her in that jar. The balance remained with her boyfriend, who tipped it over
the bow of a borrowed boat. I don’t know where my mother would have wanted to go to while
away her afterlife, if floating then fading into the ocean would have been her choice. What
could I know? We avoided each other for a decade, then two, then three. We never quarreled,

or spat cruel names, or sat at a table in civil silence. We simply existed on our distant, separate
coasts. Now we’re so close. Fragments I could cradle, could carry around all day, instead stay
encased in black lacquer, cloaked in a baroque display of swirling gold vines. If I were bolder,
I’d keep some powder exposed in clear glass, as I would keep azaleas in a vase, a final trace of
perfume in a vial, jasmine tea forgotten in its pot, left to molder. I would inspect its contents

for chips, for shards, for a hint of what’s had its hooks in my throat. But I don’t want to hold
this handful of char, don’t want to follow my shrink’s instructions to conduct a ritual, to mix it
with dirt to nourish a sapling, or sow it across my yard for foraging juncos to find. I don’t
want to touch it to my lips, to sniff for a whiff of what’s past. I want a vigil: watchful nights
of brushing hair back to cloak a zigzag of scars, of tracking a somniloquy of dark moans to its

origin in her cluttered heart. I want to hunt down that juncture where we grew apart, her life
branching from mine. I’d pull free the axe that cleaved the tough bark of our bond, grind
that blade keen enough to hack at my ache, pulverize it to a fine particulate. I want to quit,
even for a minute, imagining we embraced at the end, unhurried, my face buried in her only
body. I want to forget how every day took her farther from me. How, even now, they take.


Jennifer (JP) Perrine’s (any/all) most recent book, Beautiful Outlaw, was the recipient of the QTBIPOC Book Prize and the Stafford/Hall Prize for Poetry. Perrine is the author of four previous books of poetry: Again, The Body Is No Machine, In the Human Zoo, and No Confession, No Mass. Their other recent work appears in the anthologies Best Small Fictions, Uncertain Girls in Uncertain Times, and A Mouth Holds Many Things: A De-Canon Hybrid Lit Collection. A two-time winner of Arts and Culture Diversity and Inclusion Awards from the Asian American Journalists Association, JP lives in Portland, where they cohost the Incite: Queer Writers Read series, guide nature and forest therapy retreats, and manage an equity and environmental justice program for the state of Oregon.

dr. dez brown (they/he), publishing as dezireé a. brown, is a Black queer nonbinary and transmasculine Pushcart Prize–nominated poet and interdisciplinary scholar, born and raised in Flint, MI. Their debut collection of poetry, they/she/he: ritual to forget your (un)becoming, was the winner of the Joe W. Bratcher Prize and a finalist for the 2026 Leslie Feinberg Award for Trans and Gender-Variant Literature. Often claiming to have been born with a poem written across his chest, he spends much of his time gaming and plays a mean hand of spades. Follow them online at @deziree.the.writer.


Project Bookshelf: Alexandra Bautista

Since I was a baby, I’ve had the same bookshelf. It’s a bit of a mess. 

I’ve had to stack some books on top of the vertical ones because I can’t fit them in properly, and it takes me a good five minutes to find a book that is not in the first rows of my shelves. Finding a book often entails taking out the entire first row to see what’s in the back, only to put the books back because what I’m looking for isn’t there after all. My books spill out of the shelf itself, climbing like ivy to sit on top of the shelf. More can be found in a metal cart and in the bottom two shelves of a shelf in the living room because, as many books as my shelf can hold, I simply own too many.

So let’s take a tour of my bookshelf, for if the eyes are the windows to the soul, then my bookshelf is the window to my heart. 

The best place to start is actually not the shelf itself, I think. It’s hard to show the full thing, but I have a Google Spreadsheet titled “Alex’s Library” that holds an alphabetized list of all the books I own (333, to be exact). Above is a bit of that spreadsheet, but I do admit that I chose a section that had more “Completed” books than “Not Started,” just for the sake of portraying myself mildly positively on the internet.

The sections that I track are the status of the book (completed, in-progress, not started, DNF), the title and author of the book, as well as whether it belongs to a certain series, two genres that I feel best encompass the book, the book format (paperback, hardcover, Book of the Month, collector’s edition, movie tie-in, and manga), and the amount of pages in the book. Additionally, I also note the dates that I started and ended reading a book, my rating out of 5 stars, a link to a review that I’ve posted online, and a section for notes about the book. 

This spreadsheet is how I maintain a sense of control over the chaos of my books, and it makes it really easy to share with my friends when we want to buddy read a book. I take a lot of pride in my spreadsheet organization, honestly, so let me know if you’re also a spreadsheet fiend.

The books that are in the front are usually books that I have yet to read so that I can see them clearly and decide more quickly when I want to start a new book. A lot of these books are ones that have been published a bit more recently and thus were recently acquired. You might notice that some of those books have Goodwill stickers on the spine! A lot of my books (except for the Book of the Month editions) are found in Little Free Libraries, thrift stores, or used bookstores. A few books are bought from local bookstores around me and have been gathered throughout the years (I’m chronically late, and that includes reading popular books). 

It’s so hard to try to speak about my bookshelf since if I showed you every individual shelf (all two rows) and the books in other places, you’d be here reading for a very long time. So lastly, I’ll just show you my favorites collection.

This top shelf holds a bit of a collection of Casey McQuiston’s books. Red, White & Royal Blue is one of my favorite books ever. It holds a character that I see a lot of myself in and makes me believe that I, too, can one day live openly and happily. All of McQuiston’s books are the epitome of queer joy. Of course, that’s not to say that their characters don’t face challenges, but seeing these characters that are well-characterized enough to feel like real people receive happy endings in their stories makes me feel like real life can have happy moments as well. Some of my books are tabbed and annotated, and those I’ve turned around to show off to the world.

I also have Disorientation by Elaine Hsieh Chou, a book that was assigned for me to read in my first year at UCLA. It’s a biting satire of academia, particularly concerning the studies of Eastern cultures in Western settings. It grapples with the power dynamics of various interracial relationships between the main character and her partner, the Chinese poet who turns out to actually be white, as well as the lasting effects of Western colonization on modern cultures of the colonized.

Lastly, for my favorite books, I have three copies of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. The 1818 text was also required for me to read for a different UCLA English course, and I immediately fell in love with the story. I don’t often cry when reading books, but I sure did while reading this one. The essay I wrote for this book is one of my favorites from my degree, and I was so lucky to meet one of my best friends, Emma, in that class. The colorful spine of Frankenstein was a gift from her when she was visiting Denmark, and I cherish it as a symbol of where our friendship started.

Speaking of my English degree, I would be remiss not to mention the stack of bricks called Norton anthologies that I have. Despite the late nights those books gave me, I can’t bring myself to try to get rid of them. They’re filled with notes from when I first started out as an English major and remind me of where I started. Even when I moved, I took them with me. They’re not particularly my favorite, but I wouldn’t be where I am without them.


Photo of a Southeast Asian woman wearing glasses looking past the camera, smiling. In her hands are two books. She is wearing a white dress with a blue ribbon, a pearl necklace, and a blue and gold graduation sash. In the background are blurry bookshelves.

Alexandra Bautista (she/her) is an intern at Sundress Publications who hails from sunny California. Armed with an expensive piece of cardstock (her UCLA English degree) and way too much anxiety for one human body to hold, she approaches her lifelong love of reading with a perspective that is both analytical and emotional. Due to her background in tutoring high-school-aged and college-level students in writing, she believes that inside of everyone is a writer waiting to share their inner voice. Hopefully someday that will include her… whenever she gets over her writer’s block, that is. Which, likely, very possibly, maybe, might be never. 

Sundress Academy for the Arts Presents November Poetry Xfit

The Sundress Academy for the Arts is excited to present Poetry Xfit hosted by Shelby Hansen. This generative workshop event will take place on Sunday, November 29th, from 2 to 4 pm EST via Zoom. Join us at tiny.utk.edu/poetryxfit.

Poetry Xfit isn’t about throwing tires or heavy ropes, but the idea of confusing our muscles is the same. You will receive ideas, guidelines, and more as part of this generative workshop series in order to complete three poems in two hours. A new set of prompts will be provided after the writers have written collaboratively for thirty minutes. The goal is to create material that can be later modified and transformed into artwork rather than producing flawless final versions. The event is open to prose authors as well!

The theme for November’s Poetry Xfit is Experiment. For this month’s Xfit, Think about unexpected ways to work with white space, diction, shape, and language. Consider abandoning your comfort zones and experimenting with different ideas and forms—or lack thereof!

Shelby Hansen is a creative writer and self-proclaimed fantasy maestro hailing from the northern plains of Texas. She recently graduated from the University of Tennessee’s English program with a focus in Literature and Creative Writing, where she won several awards for her fiction. Her writing often focuses on womanhood, identity, and the reclamation of the self through a speculative lens. This is reflected in her debut novel, which she hopes to publish soon. When she is not writing or teaching today’s youth, she enjoys reading, crocheting, swimming, and spending time with her two cats, Stella and Gemma.

This event is brought to you in part by a grant provided by the Tennessee Arts Commission.

While this is a free event, donations can be made to the Sundress Academy for the Arts here.

We are excited to announce the launch of a new fundraising campaign centered on a simple idea: writers helping writers. Donors who make a gift of $100 or more to Sundress Publications can receive a poetry manuscript consultation as a thank-you for supporting our work. Learn more here on our website.