Pieces of Canis

Dharma Delahanty

It’s 12:34am on your drive home.
Two boys are riding their bikes in the lane opposite you,
one with a terribly bright, strobing light.
The heat sticks your hot pink tank top to your mid-back,
but the breeze gently kisses your brow.

You recall laying in his bed,
giving him pieces of your story.
You move like he does as you speak—
hyperextending your fingers, flaring them out to make grandiose gestures,
laughing because everything is
silly, and sick, and fucking twisted.

In the car, this memory seems *soooo* silly
(this is a very Him way of phrasing that).
And you instinctively mimic one of his gestures as you remember
that colorful bed in his sweaty studio apartment.
In that singular moment, you have to straighten up—
hot pink tank unsticking—
because you feel having known him settle within you.
A stone sinking through a lake for all of June,
finally hitting the sandy floor of you at 12:34am on the drive home.

Your very bones feel different.
Where your spine used to lay plainly,
now the cadence of his voice nestles between the atlas and the axis of your vertebrae.
And if you wanted, you could take a thin spoon and scoop out the marrow of your ulna,
and you’d find a new vocabulary and a different muscle memory than before.
When people feel along your body, they will not know how deeply he is buried.

For that, you will have to tell them about half dressed with him on a sweat slicked pink and
yellow quilt,
bathed in emerald green light.
The purple satin pillow and the black and white bed sheets.
His soft cheek squished against his forearm as you weave your fingers through faded blue hair.
You can see all his brown roots.
His left canine, which sits angled against the first molar, both juxtaposed against his otherwise
perfect teeth.
(You want to run your tongue over that canine.)
To know you, they will need to hear about the blue of his eyes—
kind of like Lake Michigan, but more like the Pacific Ocean.
How when it gets really quiet in his studio apartment,
they get wide and dark and open.
How, from his spot on the purple satin pillow,
he watches you with a love that borders on reverence and fills every gap of your changed spine.

Brook Ferris

Biography: Born in Alaska’s rugged beauty, Brook has been immersed in photography for over half of her life. Her upbringing in this inspiring setting fostered an early appreciation for the storytelling power inherent in a single image.

Now based in Oregon, her work challenges societal norms by focusing on systemic violence and gender equity, particularly in male-dominated professions. Brook’s photography blends personal narrative with broader social commentary, exploring themes of identity, resilience, and justice.

Whether capturing Alaska’s landscapes or documenting human experiences, her work invites reflection on the ties between place, memory, and the forces that shape our shared histories.

Artist Statement: These images reflect my connection to Alaska, where I grew up, exploring “roots” through natural and historical lenses. Each image integrates the wild landscapes, human presence, and cultural background that shaped my identity.

From untouched landscapes to abandoned structures, my photographs reveal how the land and its people are interconnected, highlighting the resilience that defines Alaska.

This work invites viewers to consider their roots—both as places of origin and as ties to larger histories and ecosystems. Alaska’s landscapes are not only my roots but an embodiment of how place and memory are inherently linked in shaping who we are.

Dharma Delahanty

Biography: I’m Dharma, and artist originally from Chicago, and now in Oregon for school. I have been creating art in many mediums all my life, and writing poetry since the first time a boy broke my heart (please laugh, it’s funny). My journey as a poet continued when I joined my high school’s competitive slam-poetry team. Nowadays, I write to understand our world’s magic. In fact, I think I’d perish if I didn’t. I gravitate towards poetry about love and pleasure, two of the greatest joys of my life and some of the most powerful magic out there.

Artist Statement: This is a piece about the moment you realize someone has become fundamental to who you are. That knowing them has begun to change you. When you’re young, you’re continuously growing new roots in the places you visit and the people you meet. It’s a wonderful experience to feel it happening before the root is even fully grown. So, this poem is for one of my most meaningful roots in this world.