Within the context of this poem, I tried to explain what was happening to my body because of SLE and what I was thinking.
"When a favorite perfume ceases to exist, it is another kind of death. Having been created, it leaves a special sort of emptiness," from Eulogy for a Perfume.
“Letter from Okinawa” describes my research and observations into the impact the U.S. military has had on the island, and tells the story of the Japanese government’s historical culpability by colonizing, controlling, and discriminating against the island.
"Congratulations to Shanita Mitchell, Editorial Board member of The AutoEthnographer and multimedia artist, for her recognition by the International Association of Autoethnography and Narrative Inquiry (IAANI)."
J. Sumerau·
All ContentAutoethnographic Flash NonfictionAutoethnographic Literary FictionVolume 3, Issue 4 (2023)
··19 min readThis short story about a night in a shed is an attempt to encourage any reader to think about the stories that circulate within communities.
Autoethnographic Literary Nonfiction: I Just Want to Go Home – Moving, Loss and Unacknowledged Grief
"Moving away from a beloved home at a tender age was traumatizing, in part, because that home was the only place in which I felt safe."
The Ultimate Wave: Prose Poetry of the Pandemic and Parents Author’s Memo “The Wave” examines the problem of pleasure and...
Poet Anne McCrary Sullivan discusses her latest book Learning Calabar, Notes from a Poet’s Year in Nigeria with editor Michelle Reale.
"I had no idea what the repercussions would be should I disclose my identity to my students. Would I be fired? Would I be questioned? Would I be told not to talk of such things? This reticence is a sad reflection on my internalized homophobia, my being still uncomfortable enough with my identity such that I had to worry about keeping it secret."
"Ongoing horrific events painstakingly filled my mind when I submerged into Dante’s Commedia Divina. Our tragedy with nature revealed itself to me in its deepest form."
"Barriers melt like grilled cheese at the table when you're dancing for your supper like the old vaudevillians."
This poem, entitled "Work Out," is about how I dealt with 2020. It's a writing exercise I didn't realize I needed to do.