Parler Pour Ne Rien Dire

Alisha Mascarenhas’s A Catalogue of Risk is a volte-face of the neoliberal market economy’s construction of isolated, individual safety. In her debut book of poems, Mascarenhas lingers in the question of risk as it arises in daily life and intimacy. Through a close study and partial translation of philosopher-psychoanalyst Anne Dufourmantelle’s Éloge du risque (2011), her poems posit risk as a fissure, through which we might imagine yet-unknown futures.

Alisha Mascarenhas’s A Catalogue of Risk is the recipient of the 2022 Carolyn Bush Award.

Alisha Mascarenhas (b. 1989) is a poet and translator and the author, most recently, of the chaplet Contagion Fields (Belladonna* 2021). She has contributed writing to Pamenar Press, The Poetry Project Newsletter, The Recluse, Peripheral Review, and The Felt, among others. Alisha was a 2023 resident at La Baldi Artist’s Residency in Montegiovi, Italy. She holds an MFA in Writing from Pratt Institute in Brooklyn, where she now lives.

There is a body lying across Alisha Mascarenhas’s A Catalogue of Risk. Here is a book of generosity and perdition, that could not anticipate the death of its author, the one these works are addressed to, written for, dreamt by, in a stream of proximities. A strange dismantling of time occurs as a result of quiet reversals in which light is diffracted across belated syntaxes, reaching past life to the living. Though A Catalogue of Risk is “running past the flowers,” it is a slow text that grieves the day’s illuminations. It is a lesson in transmission in which we, readers, are the apprentices of grace, at the edge also of drowning. Here is a book that has been “hungering to be emptied.” So, too, is it a book of promise.
— Nathanaël

A Catalogue of Risk is a book of luminous attention. Alisha Mascarenhas gives us the language of a mind tracking both internal and external weathers, tuning and returning herself to beauty, fear, grief and desire. Attending a cascade of emotions, the poet dwells in questions, knowing that to keep open to difficult questions is to keep open to desire. That she risks such openness, thinking always with others, through pain and love, is an astonishment. 
— Madhu Kaza

A Catalogue of Risk poses an evocative challenge, one of prismatic nuance: to pursue multiple angles of intimacy along the life-death continuum of how risk holds, unfolds, and makes one whole. “The definition” of what risk is “is shaded in questions” and runs a gamut of desires and sensations at once libidinal and cerebral. Alisha Mascarenhas risks risk itself with this generous offering of exquisite phenomenology and experiential trace in the form of a full-saturation poetics glowing in amplitude and intensity.
— Brenda Iijima

What do you worship? What claims your time, your faith, your silence? What are the icons you carry, the relics you protect, the devotions that define you?

For our inaugural issue, we invite you to reflect on the objects, ideas, rituals, and obsessions that shape your devotion. Worship is not confined to temples or texts, it flickers in longing glances, whispered prayers, silent routines, and fervent beliefs. It can be sacred or profane, communal or solitary, chosen or inherited.

We encouraged our writers and artists to interpret this theme freely, critically, emotionally, playfully, or abstractly. Whether they explored worship through fiction, nonfiction, poetry, visual art, or hybrid forms, we were looking for work that comforts, commands, or consumes.

This issue features art and writing from: Triinu Silla, Michel Krysiak, Anna Tracey, Antonina Anna Kubicka, Ari Wentz, Jonathan David Sijl, Renacuajo Sánchez, Florence Hutchinson, Marta Calero Segura, Eden Ridout, Artémis Toumi, Simone Viola, Zoe Pappouti, Laura Soto Sánchez, Autumn Anderson, Woodkern, Cathal McGuire, Nena Pawletko, Ignacio Aguilera, Marine Victoria Lobos Garay, Andreea Luță, Isabel Ferreras González, Rafael Torrubia, Emilia Tapia, KC Willis, Simon Jin, Jacky Weerman, Róisín Gallagher, and Rin Anishchanka. 

Retour is a book featuring a collection of drawings made on train journeys between Belgium and the Netherlands. It combines hand-written typography and train interiors, subtly highlighting cultural differences forming the countries’ border. 

Partie sur les sites de la dernière briqueterie artisanale de Riemst et de la recyclerie de briques d'Alexander van Mosselaer, Juliet Mérie en ramène un récit poétique qui explore notre rapport à la matière vivante et questonne le cours de la vie. 

Loin d'être un documentaire, ses photographies créent un rapport ambigu entre la perception des espaces visités et l'allégorie qui s'installe. La possière se soulève pour dévoiler les lieux de vie et de mort des briques qui dessinent le paysage belge. 

This publication is based on a project by Despina Vassiliadou that ran from 2015-16. It presents a collection of photographs taken during the period, accompanied by fictional short stories.