Motherworld

motherworld charts an unseen geography of speculative freedom and chronic illness. The book opens with possibility, and even through collapse—especially through collapse—closes with possibility. motherworld asks: When wounds are imminent and ever-present—emotionally, physically, and universally—what do you need for recovery? Who does your pain, your loss, and your power remind you of? And how long have they been in your corner? Hemphill is an elegant architect of fugitivity, inviting you to sit with this book and meditate on the healing properties of the apocalypse.

motherworld is many things: a choreopoem, a devotional, a sonic dreamscape—but to me, first and foremost, motherworld is a ritual. A practice in remembering and re-aligning. An exercise in intention and wholeness. Holiness. These are poems to greet you at the portal after the end of this world, poems with which to usher in a new world on "un-settled" ground—armed with the secrets of your mama-n-em coursing through your veins.