^{Adam Whittier / adamwhittier.com / Instagram: @ whittier_comix
Special thanks to KC Green for permission to use his original comic.}

Medical mystery

You treat medical illness

Like religion instead of science

Like mysteries

That can’t be solved

We don’t want your thoughts and prayers

We want doctors who

Treat us like people

Even if we’re queer and poor

— Squinn

A composite of features found in Eastern Washington, this was created to use as a teaching tool, a classroom visual reference. The original oil painting by Jenny Rieke hangs at at Pacific Northwest National Laboratory where, over consecutive summers, a Science Alive cohort led by Karen Wieda and Peggy Willcuts engaged a team of Teacher Leaders in deep studies of our local ecosystems. The intensive professional development culminated in a suite of teaching tools that are still free to download from www.friendsofmcrwr.org/education.html.

Memory

All is disordered in my usurped Bedouin memory.
The young man who was electrocuted as he watered his field
was a potential groom for several little girls.
His pores were potential lanterns in the dark after that charge of light.
In all possibilities, memory betrays me.
Was he a groom or a deferred lantern or a green field?
My mother has a habit of squaring every detail in my memories.
The young man became a field, the green a lantern,
and electricity never once reached my village.

— Sheikha Hlewa, Haifa
Poems from Palestine

Translated by Lena Tuffaha
 
Read more at:
thebaffler.com/logical-revolts/poems-from-palestine

Through Closed Eyes

Where should I begin?

With visions of my birth?

Bursts of red and orange glow.

Like staring at the sun

through closed eyes.

Forced into a flash

of bright blinding light.

Or was it the first strike

of pain?

Perhaps a lie cast upon

deaf ears.

Better seen,

then ever heard.

They say we are only human

after all.

Fragile and flawed,

then forgotten

like a promise.

If life wasn’t hard

would it still be

considered living?

If there wasn’t hate,

could we still love?

Shame is a filth

that cannot just be

washed away.

Mistakes must be paid for,

no matter the cost.

Can we be born again?

Bursts of red and orange glow.

Like staring at the sun

through closed eyes.

Forced into a flash

of bright blinding light!

— S.E. Canella

Washington State Penitentiary

i wouldn’t really consider myself an artist but i love being creative and making my own art out of random stuff that comes to mind.