The OrphanAGE, Vol. 1.14
First Lines
On top of everything, the cancer wing was Number 13.
~ Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Cancer Ward
We had a whole other issue planned.
Following a long day, I gave over to the wind-down. Opening my socials: there was Jose. That voice (some voices are just meant for poetry)! Unpretentious. Unflappable. Setting aside for a bit the me-me-me to listen to what others might have to say. A habit begun during the forced sequester of the Rona years… Jose began regularly posting vids of poems that caught his attention. Unhurried, each word encouraged to seek its resonance, to invoke the shared weight of our humanity, so at odds with the assault of the 24/7 news cycle. In this video (you can find others at his Facebook page) Jose offers: Heid E. Erdrich’s “The Theft Outright”; June Jordan’s “Song of the Law Abiding Citizen”; and Palestine’s Mahmoud Darwish and his “And I, Even if I Were the Last”. A poet and a muralist, Faus, in these readings becomes our tribe’s sage, shaman.
With these poems, we’ve paired three paintings by Lee Smalter. Bare. Bled of color. Agitated and uneasy. A tryptic of impressions in acrylic on wood. Over the last several years, as curator of 39th Street’s Smalter Gallery, Lee has built a unique, vibrant, midtown space for so many of our city’s artists.
And finally, a little shared exasperation at our city’s prep for the rapidly approaching World Cup from our correspondent, Lola. Even as our bungling city leaders scramble to whitewash years of neglected upkeep (anyone try to use the highway by the downtown airport?!!), many find themselves anxious about the planning to accommodate… it’s not like their hasn’t been time.
Peace,
Dante
In This Issue
- Paintings by Lee Smalter
- Poetry Video by Jose Faus
- World Cup Essay by Lola
Lee Smalter
Obscured Figures 1, 2, and 3, by Lee Smalter
Jose Faus
Jose Faus reads poetry by Heid E. Erdrich, June Jordan, and others.
The 11th Hour: The 2026 World Cup
In under 90 days, our City of Fountains will be flooded with strangers. A minimum of 650,000+ bodies of various creeds, cultures, and charismas. The greatest influx of unfamiliar faces the city has ever seen.
I remember the day it was announced: Kansas City would be a host city for the 2026 FIFA
World Cup! I was standing in an ex-lover's bathroom in nothing on but lingerie, watching the live footage while curling my hair, when words of my hometown spilled from the announcer's mouth.
“FUCK. NO.” I let slip, as if I were being held by knife-point. The former lover responded with some mansplained murmurings, and my day was ruined. I should’ve used my curling iron as a weapon in that moment, either to end it for me or for him.
Listen, I realize it sounds like I could give a shit about sports. But the truth is I LOVE sports — hence, ex-lover. And what do I love more than sports? Growth. Opportunity. Corny, I know, but this global event is a textbook marriage of the two. Yet, I absolutely despise is community colonization and visible failure. There are few things uglier than lipstick on a pig and I fear our fine city has said “pucker up” as a perceived solution to our dated exterior, lousy infrastructure, and NIMBYistic morals.
The population arriving in Kansas City will be larger than the number of its year-round residents.
Over 39 days, as the smallest of the 16 host cities, we will make tourists claustrophobic. Hear
me out! We’re expected to generate over $600 million of economic impact as a result. But what is the cost?
Something about this feels like a war (and I’ve been seeing more than enough of that on my screens recently). I’m watching my city scramble to hide its faults, locate its identity, and, ultimately, pit neighbors against each other. The irony of the situation is that this is all landing as our homebase teams flee the scene. I feel like I’m watching an 18-year-old apply for every out-of-state college to see how quickly they can get away from home. The state line is a tightrope for the corporate cows and political pigs at the trough to straddle.
Rejoice! The border war is alive and well - oh how agonizing it has been!
What should be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity is stretching the rubber band of “Midwest Nice”
When did we lose our taste for hospitality? Did it ever exist? Or was it but a deep fried casserole version of welcoming?
The dog whistle of community collaboration is blowing, but only a few can hear it.
The global umbrella is already signaling a disposal of their tickets like used toasters on Facebook Market Place. You can fill in the blanks on all the horrid, inhuman acts that keep me up at night, not just based on this upcoming performance but this current life. The political potholes get deeper and my heart hurts harder. This city is no longer my playground. It’s become my nightmare. Fuck, the nation is a nightmare.
With love, from the KC runaway,
Lola