By Mark Fleming

easy groove your voice 
crackle pops like 
merry-go-round 
classic vinyl 
 
what does a poet tell another  
one who showed them 
through beige plains 
to a pool of speech  
let cool water move 
through cupped hands 
to a dry mouth 
teaching it to drink 
 
you don’t say thank you 
despite many thanks earned  
you don’t say anything 
you make yourself available 
to the next leather tongue 
dipping your ladle into the mirror 
and letting the water drip 
from one person 
to the next 
 
all you taught me, Katie  
is how to cup my hands  

draining_acrylic_on_wood

Draining by Lindsay Liang

About the Author

Mark Fleming is a poet from Cleveland, Ohio.

About the Artist

Lindsay Liang is an interdisciplinary artist whose work traces the vanishing contours of memory—personal, cultural, and biological. Raised on Daishan Island, her early intimacy with the sea continues to inform her understanding of time, disappearance, and continuity. Water, in her practice, flows as childhood ocean, fetish structure, and bodily fluid—both materially and ecologically. Originally trained as a pre-med student, Liang published scientific research on genes regulating longevity. Her background in neuroscience and pathology shapes a heightened sensitivity to the unstable boundaries between the normal and the pathological and informs her visual exploration of the body as a site of transformation. Drawing from dream theory, embodied perception, and traditional kingfisher feather techniques, she constructs a hybrid visual language that binds craft, science, and ancestral residue. For Liang, the body is not a subject but a site—of inheritance, trauma, and transmission. Her work unfolds as a recursive process, where preservation and reinvention co-exist. Each piece is an unstable container: a reconstruction of what slips away, a structure for what resists language but demands to be remembered.