We're seeing several manifestations of the coronavirus That are really surprising doctors But let's start with what we're- they're calling COVID toes- What is that about? If you don't have Any feeling in your toes and your feet That's when you wanna worry Some presenting with Frostbite-like blisters on their feet Called freezing cold COVID toes

Ghost Poem - San Alland About A spoken word poem. Lyrics Hi I'm San Alland. That's S. a. n. Then A. l. l. a. n. d. I'm going to read "Ghost Poem: The Road Cuts Through Us". It's from a zine I co-made with Etzali Hernández called "Sore Loser: a chronic pain and illness zine on queer disabled grief". Thanks for listening / reading. If you want to skip this access intro and go straight to the poem, it's at about 3 minutes in. In terms of content notes, there are no graphic details, but I refer to ableism, eugenics, racism, classism and poverty, cisheterosexism, transmisogyny and death. Before I begin, I'll make some clarifications, especially for those listening instead of reading. When I say 'stairs', it's spelled s. t. a. i. r. s. As in stairs some people climb or descend. As in lack of level access for disabled people. I critique the term 'women and non-binary'. This term can exclude transfeminine non-binary people, and others, while also erasing non-binary people as 'women light'. When not talking solely about women, some people prefer the term 'women and minority genders'. Terf, t. e. r. f., stands for 'trans exclusionary radical feminist'. A haiku, h. a. i. k. u., is a Japanese poetic form, sometimes written badly by white people. Incel refers to 'involuntary celibate' subculture, which is misogynist and male supremecist. 

Ghazal, g. h. a. z. a. l., sounds something like the English 'guzzle', g. u. z. z. l. e. It's a poetic form that started in seventh-century Arabia. It was altered and popularised as the Persian Ghazal in Iran and later India, and more recently adopted (sometimes poorly) in Europe, North America and elsewhere. The west end of Glasgow is a posher area. Xir, x. i. r., is a gender-neutral pronoun like 'their', t. h. e. i. r. I pronounce it 'zer' but it has other pronunciations. I reference brown envelopes. Bad news about benefits often arrives from the UK government / DWP in a brown envelope. When I read the poem, I make sound effects, for example 'whooshing' in and out to indicate things in parentheses [makes sound]. I speak a low tone 'duhduh' to represent opening and closing italics or quotations of things people say or advertise. A colon goes 'gwah'. A semicolon goes 'puh!'. Big pauses between words are filled with quiet rapid breathing, 'huh huh huh huh huh'. These sounds give the poem the kinds of emphasis that exist on the page but can be invisible when speaking. The sounds also echo the sometimes-surreal nature of life as a queer disabled shielder, and they challenge the normalisation of the erasure of our poetry and poets. 3:04 The poem begins with quotes from two poets who passed away in 2020 and 2021. From RM Vaughan: "A bad poem is a poem that didn't get written." From Callie Gardner: "silvia rivera is still alive / kickstarting her heating bill." Ghost Poem: The Road Cuts Through Us, by Sandra Alland. "All welcome," hiss endless queer invites to nights full of stairs and Covid. Workshops beckon: "Women and non-binary only." But I'm gonna need definitions for most of those words.

 In my inbox, a cishet panel for alcohol wages: Would I sit between that terf haikuist 
 and the guy who does incel ghazals? (With Exposure!) (Without captions!) Our muses cry-laugh themselves into vapour, or is that me. West-end screens shimmer eBay: Stonewall Was A Riot Tea Set! But it's crickets for the fundraiser: Disabled Black Trans Woman Needs Help!
 Another unnoticed eviction.

 "We've been over this," 
 I scream at my pretend-therapist. 
 "It was called the 90s!" My friend was real, though; 
 we sat talking pain and mutual aid, 
 xir purple lipstick glowing hope. 
 We were next to the motorway, 
 like all skint folk in Glasgow.
 What conversation isn't (wasn't)
 full of exhaust for us: who died, 
 what care's been cancelled, 
 which brown envelope or headline. 
 Some of our hearts just stop, 
 for no reason the doctors can find. 
 This poem can only be an echo;
 my real stanzas fade with my dead. 
 The air above the traffic stenches 
 with verse gone off, unfinished texts 
 of the past year and decade. 
 Theirs and mine, and thousands 
 we don't mention or mourn. 
 Each line I conjure vanishes with them
 out the into the onto the ;
 ruthlessly unpoemed

Harper K. Smith - holocene (Acoustic) Lyrics: Christmas lights in September Wildfires in October November summer air I put on some glitter To hang with my air purifier Wash off my face and then the glitter swims with the fish I can’t see the future when God is smoking in the food court and I’m down wind Towering condos Burning down SROs Cities covered in smoke Does the holocene have Enough grief cookies for all our dead? I’ll call my grandma’s old folks’ home, see if they have any left Nobody could predict that life would end quite like this What else is there to say? We all die eventually It’s never discoballs and confetti at the end Been online a lot lately, Things are feeling kinda’ scary It’s sink or swim, choke or breathe Die or leave, with no rest/reprieve We’re sharing memes and getting swallowed by the sea But don’t point at me, hit ctrl+alt+dlt Ctrl+alt+dlt Holocene

Let us now to the Greenwood go Where the leaves reach high, and the sky hangs low
 And if we tread softly we may be seen By the keen eyes of the Fairy Queen Ash Oak and Thistle, Feather and Fern A Robin’s clear whistle, River and Tarn Unseen voices brightly sing To call you to the Fairy Ring “Come out from your Fairy Bower Come upon this golden hour Come to us we beg you please Fairies dancing on the breeze” Ash, Oak and Thistle, Scarlet and Green
 Dance Whirl and Shimmer, Posture and Preen Laughter and Merry, the blink of an eye A hundred years passed you by

Not in my name, not in my name, not in my name 2 million civilians, and innocent children are not the ones to blame What right do I have to return, to a place I have not been 2 thousand years While living here on land that was stolen, centuries ago in trails of tears When I was just 5, a small refugee We got to escape to a place we called free But the children of Gaza do not have that choice Their lives just as precious, we must hear their voices Not in my name, not in my name, not in my name 2 million civilians, and innocent children are not the ones to blame For thousands of years we’ve been running, from Pogroms, Inquisitions and Crusades Six million lost, in the Holocaust, while nations refused refuge and escape But what fault is that, of Palestinians displaced whose claim to their land must not be erased Ten thousand wrongs don’t make a right Violence is not safety. Injustice ignites Not in my name (no violence in my name) not in my name (no bombing in my name) Not in my name (no sieges in my name, no killing in my name) 2 million civilians, and innocent children are not the ones to blame We call for cease fire, as we grieve, take no more lives before their time All for all, we call for peace, war crimes don’t justify war crimes All of these atrocities, will not bring all those we mourn We call for peace, equality, and refugee right of return My babushka, no stranger to starvation, fed my mama the few morsels that she had Hungry, she thought about her sister, who was trapped in the Siege of Leningrad I think of mamas in Gaza, under exploding skies Desperate to ease their hungry children’s cries Shelters and homes under siege and attack An open-air prison becomes a death trap Not in my name, not in my name, not in my name 2 million civilians, and innocent children are not the ones to blame Not in my name (no violence in my name) not in my name (no bombing in my name) Not in my name (no sieges in my name, no killing in my name) 2 million civilians, and innocent children are not the ones to blame Never Again, for anyone

Theres a serial killer outside of my door. Although invisible to the naked eye. It's a killer we can not ignore Because this time it's not limited to the poor Not an issue to offshore A serial killer just outside my door. And the experience of going out is no longer like before.

Burden [spoken] 'Perhaps that's what all human relationships boil down to: Would you save my life? or would you take it?' [Verse] Often, I lean on words When I don’t know what to say You treat me like a burden And it hurts. I learned how to love you in so many different ways. You treat me like a burden And it hurts. [Pre-Chorus] I had to accept the truth I want nothing to do with you. [Chorus] I thought we’d talk I should have known better I held you together But you threw me out. Now I’m gonna be little bitter since you let me down. One day I’ll get past it Just not right now. [Verse] When I cry, do you hear my tears fall? Are my emotions hard to digest? I held my arms open But I needed rest. Is it shyness or cowardice? Do they intercept?
 Will you at least mourn the death of me? I won’t hold my breath [Pre-Chorus] I had to accept the truth I want nothing to do with you. [Chorus] I thought we’d talk I should have known better I held you together But you threw me out. Now I’m gonna be little bitter since you let me down. One day I’ll get past it Just not right... [Bridge] Now Now Now Now Now Now Now Now [Chorus] I thought we’d talk I should have known better I held you together But you threw me out. Now I’m gonna be little bitter since you let me down. One day I’ll get past it Just not right now.