This is a text about a text that no longer exists except in my BIUTIKWEENBOT mind. It is a text about a text that was once meant to guide us and is no longer. This is the purest of impure texts, a supplement without origin, a paterless child. It roams its profile corral, knocking against the fence, impatiently waiting to be released from its immateriality. It is a ghost with no body to possess, a desire without object. It is my stupidity x their light. It is fine, divine, sweet, and diligent. It coulda been better, coulda been badder. It coulda been in Spanish or English. I coulda just talked to the man, instead of being so terca, tan pero tan cabrona. I coulda just been like heyumnotok in a more personal way, but then I’d have to become someone, you know, with agency and shit. So really this is a text about and for my ANARCOBITCHES, my KWEENBOTS, and my FAKEFEMMES. I mean, sorry bros of the lit world, I just think they are hotter than you. #VIPFEMMES
p.d. mis jevas know who you are. yrs 4eva. xoxoxo.
COMMUNE SHALL BE THE SIZE OF PLAZA LAS AMÉRICAS.
ONLY BIUTIKWEENS NEED APPLY.
AS FOR THE THEORIST WHO INSPIRED THIS KWEENDOM:
FROM ONE PIECE OF ME-MERCHANDISE TO ANOTHER, THANKS BRUH FOR ALL THE LOLZ.
Raquel Salas-Rivera has published poetry and essays in numerous anthologies and journals. In 2011, their first book, Caneca de anhelos turbios, was published by Editora Educación Emergente. In 2016, their chapbook, oropel/tinsel, was published by Lark Books & Writing Studio, and their chapbook huequitos/holies was published by La Impresora. Currently, they are a Contributing Editor at The Wanderer. If for Roque Dalton there is no revolution without poetry, for Raquel there is no poetry without Puerto Rico.
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