ISSUE NO. 14: SELF-PORTRAIT 1

December 2022

This issue of Pearl Press features work from:

Cover image: Delilah Twersky

Curated by: Delilah Twersky

Download the PDF below.

Bloody Nose, 2017: Victor Isaac Alvarez

Isaac & Abraham, 2022: Daniel Terna

Self Baptism: Patrick Carew

POUGHKEEPSIE

beyond the pastel

smoothlooming sky

you appear incan-

descent along

the furthest trees

as a slice of gold

I am barreling at

a predetermined

speed and you are

tomorrow the scythe

Ellie Musgrave

A LONG WAY (TO THE TOP)

easier to hold

the specter of a red

sugar maple

set aflame than to

admit I have been

forgetting myself,

forgoing the one

voice I can return to

weakly, I bring up

what the prophets

used to say in

regard to rock music

but who am I

kidding. my guy at the

hardware store thinks

I got rid of my tattoo

maybe that is the ask:

who would you let

yourself be under the

stark martian stars?

Ellie Musgrave

Self Portrait, Ford Street 1983: Jan Watten

Self Portrait at 22: Jan Watten

My Phantom: Chitose Kuroishi

Cacoon: Ildikó Kópé

Butterfly: Ildikó Kópé

Imago: Ildikó Kópé

Clutch: Chris Maliga

I KEEP HEARING (4/8)

that which others find sad and heart-

breaking are the things I feel the most love in

Say Yes and Romeo and Juliet are sad songs

and they line this bachelorette catacomb

once I figure out what, among all the old

books, is making my room smell like an

old bookstore, it's over for us bitches

I keep hearing "you got out with your life"

what I got out with was a few pots of

Target-shelf luxuries and a bag of chips

a stack of library books that mock me

from the shelf at the end of my bed

and, blessedly, a glimpse at the wide sky

on my skipstop commute back home

Ellie Musgrave

Me, Birthday, 2020: Isabelle Baldwin

Self portraits in France, 2022: Julia Sara Noëlle

Self portraits in France, 2022: Julia Sara Noëlle

PARTY ON, GARTH!

The beginning of my renaissance

is paved with pebbles, pickpocket stones

PARTY on!

perpetual immigrant-kid--

I tell myself in the mirror

that they're all in on the joke

as they laugh out loud

corn husks, stripping

in front of

my eyes

leaving stringy bits on the ground

like the remains of

a GOOD haircut.

i smile, pretending to know

how one thing blossoms into another

roses blooming in recession

transforming right before my eyes

into the tight coiled curls, of lavender

sprigs

somehow

IN someway, strung together

by an invisible thread

Is my shirt the wrong shade of red?

i tug on it at least ten times before

walking out the door, completely

UNSURE

of the recipe

My shoes, are they too worn down?

not enough?

blindfolded, i tiptoe on this tightrope

searching for THAT quintessential cool

or is it,

my smile?

too open? or my eyes, too honest?

what gives me away?

I wipe the hazy fog from the medicine cabinet, in an attempt

to erase--

as a way to be seen.

Elida Silvey

Self portraits in France, 2022: Julia Sara Noëlle

I Wish I Could Take You With Me: Alborz Kamalizad

Narcissus: Chris Maliga

Drowned Man II: Patrick Carew

Self Portrait with Mom: Patrick Carew

MAJESTIC

Beard the color of charcoal
That has been under fire
For too long
And not long enough

A monochromatic quilt
Of scruff nestled youthfulness
Blanketing a smile
Buoyant by 38 years of laughter
Because every thought is humorous
Even when they shouldn't be

Born endangered
He's an eagle's single eye
Soaring high
Squinting to get its focus
After seeing something funny
Off in the sunny distance
Of his stretch of the woods -- the ghetto

Where only the most brutal hunters compete
Over colored feathers -- the gangs
Clashing against the palette's authority -- the police

Yet he remains majestic
Tranquil, regal
And resolved
For all the world
To see

Kellen Parham

Me, Bedroom, 2020: Isabelle Baldwin

La Jaula: Javier E. Piñero

SUITS AND SCREWDRIVERS

I put my best suit on,

the one with the lapels that stick out like YSL

suits in the 70s used to

pretend to be Willie Dynamite, if

he were Mexican that is

float down the steps with my fur

coat

bellowing like a bull.

I order a martini, hold the olive

or a vodka screwdriver

in morning

pretend to enjoy it

as it drips down, like the taste of a night

gone-on for too long

I let it puncture a hole

in my stomach

like a hole-punch indicating

where something should go

I let viper-venom words stain my teeth

yellow

forget to brush my hair

forget to take out the trash

forget to call

my mom

Most importantly, I pretend that somehow -

suits and screwdrivers

fix those little niggling things

inside.

Elida Silvey

Self-Portrait with Greenwood Lake: Delilah Twersky

REBUILDING MY TEMPLE

Empower my body, yet shatter my soul

For the soil holding my entangled roots are rotten to the fucking core.

I feel..that always this skin that we've bathed in sin, must be peeled away

to see what is left of my pores.
You look at me with pure pleasure, one that man can ever truly measure.
But…they whisper in my ear, stay with this pain.
You’ll never have anything else worthy of your time,
the pinnacle of this everlasting pain for in the end, we are all the same.
Empower my body, yet shatter my soul

With these trembling hands, I cannot turn back time.
Just pour this refilling glass of wine, wishing this body wasn’t mine.
What is a self portrait that you can’t stand?

What is a body that no longer belongs to man?
Depression has a hold of my veins,

pulling my body by the reins.
All I know is pain.
Empower my body, yet shatter my soul

Even out of ruins, beauty can be reborn.
Too long have I spent time searching for a place to call my own, a place to home.
When in reality, it resided inside of me.
I know there is something bigger and better out there for me.
The world at my head, the sky at my feet.
I no longer walk with my soul in defeat.
Self love as my self portrait, this is what truly makes me whole.
Empower my body, yet shatter my soul

My insecurities ring loud, but I am proud.
Proud of where I am, for here I stand.
Rebuilding my temple, in return, wasn’t that simple
But I want to spend the rest of my life learning…
how to properly worship this gift in stride,
Rebuilding my temple, brick by brick.
It’s time I empower my body, and restore my soul.
Self love as my self portrait.
This is what truly makes me whole.

Darius Phelps

10 years since, or a portrait of Pop and me: Taj Reed

Thank you for reading.

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Delilah Twersky

Pearl Press