From the Archives
A digest of the best under a new old name
Welcome to the re-booted runarchism, under a new pen name, a queer anarchistic amalgamation of beloved and blown noms-de-guerre. If you know you know. Special thanks to M. Greenwald for the new logo art, the iconic ACAB Grouse of Poor Mountain.
This is a digest of some of the best pieces from the old archive - some fiction, some commentary, some creative memoir. Follow the links below, and if there is an old piece in your inbox that I haven’t included here that you think should be revived, let me know! It is likely that I will continue to post from the archives as inspiration strikes.
The Ashes of Ehud Finch
The Ashes of Ehud Finch “Hey, Sonny! You hear the news?” Jax called to me from across the street as I strapped on my bike helmet. “What? No, what news?” I didn’t look up. I was almost late for work and Jax was always trying to start conversations I didn’t want to have…
Friday Night at The Know
It was a cold night in February 2009, and the stinging air rushed into my warm car when I opened the door. I always got to the bookstore early on Friday nights to make sure I got a parking spot out back by the dumpster. Parking was at a premium on Friday nights at The Know. Friday nights were the jam session…
Building Stuff, Breaking Stuff
I spend a lot of my time imagining what daily life would or could or should look like in a post-capitalist, post-colonial reality. I try to imagine a way of life that is no longer dependent on extractive industries, a way of life in which we no longer live as colonial settlers, but as creatures living in reciprocity with the land and with each other…
Writing a Blank Check
Way back when I was in divinity school I had a favorite professor – the first Black professor to receive tenure from that esteemed institution – who taught from the tradition of Black Liberation Theology...
From the Sea to the Swamp
A poem about my prayer run from Narragansett to the Great Swamp Massacre Monument in South Kingstown, RI on February 19, 2023...
Up the Notch
I find it strange how I could live on a place for years and not live in or with it. How the form of life in a suburbanized neighborhood maintained a separation from the land, a disconnection. How I could grow up not knowing the names of the places all around me, or be aware of the lives that had been lived there for centuries and millennia before...
The Racist Race
Ever heard of the Barkley Marathons? If you’re outside of the running world, probably not. And if this is the first time you’ve heard of it, I’m going to suggest this be the last time you’ve heard of it, too. Why? Because it’s racist, that’s why...
The Killing of Barbara Pike
The Killing of Barbara Pike The thin powder flew in drifty wisps across the granite ice the day Pipershine the Peddler returned to Isle la Motte...