what's new with DOG TEETH?
a little update for you all in these trying times
we have PERIPHERY on the way soon, and a lot of really cool thoughts from past contributors here to keep you sated ‘til its release.
PERIPHERY UPDATE
PERIPHERY subs are closed and we are working on putting the issue together! While you wait, here’s some updates on where we’re at, interviews from our contributors from KIN and INTERSPECIES, and a sick as fuck community column.
ISSUE THREE: PERIPHERY CONTRIBUTORS
We have a juicy issue coming up! It’s gonna be a big one with so many amazing pieces and I’m so excited for you all to see it!! Check out our contributors and get hype to read their incredible work!
HYBRID/OTHER
Mahdi Meshkatee - ‘Blank’
CREATIVE NON-FICTION
Lucy Hannah Ryan - ‘Why Can’t I Be Hungry - Cannibalism and Chronic Illness’
Arushi (aera) Rege - ‘this is not a poem’
Jade Winterburn - ‘untitled essay’
MICROFICTION
Jason Caudle - ‘CHOMP’
Zoe Adrien Lapa - ‘Eating Her’
Jacqueline Parker - ‘Alice and the Swan’
Matthew Hopkins - ‘EVERYTHING MUST GO’
Hannah England - ‘GIRLTHING’
Pi Delport - Run
POETRY
S. Cristine - ‘EXT: WEST TEXAS AT MIDNIGHT’
Kurt Edward Milberger - [livor mortis], [algor mortis] and [rigor mortis]
T!K! Williams - ‘Barely Human’
Shepard DiStasio - ‘le stade du miroir’
hera hong - ‘Crawling’
Elly Meyers ‘You were in my dream last night’
Nina Maar - ‘all dogs go to heaven’ and ‘apocrypha’
Jay Aelick - ‘seven polaroids for our seven months’
Tommy Wyatt Blake - ‘quicksave: repetition compulsion’ and ‘gender as convenience’
Beau Nicholas - ‘ekbom’s mutt’
Sam J Grudgings - ‘DETERIORATE’
Alannah Guevara - ‘Chosen or How The Fish Theologize’
Theodore James - ‘the dog in me gnaws the dog in you’ and ‘cower’
B.A. O'Connell ‘Under the Northern Star—I Give You My Best Valiant Speech’
Poppy Magee - ‘Wolf Poem’
Sean Glatch - ‘Green Eyed Monster’, ‘The Rhinelander Hodag’ and ‘F-t Jesus Lives!’
Pascal Vine - ‘Post-apocalypse’
Maudie Bryant - ‘Eulogy, Unswallowed’
Devon Webb - ‘NO MORE LIFE MADE OF ABSENCES’
Kawa Lordean - ‘the art of being human’
Halberd - ‘ugly multiplicity' and 'sunkissed, domesticated'
A.D. - ‘guide to witnessing your lover’ and ‘self-inspection over the dead body of your father’
Zip G - 'Untitled (are you there)?', 'Hallways are always the worst part of the house' and 'BE NOT AFRAID’
Mallory Dinaro - ‘Guy Code’
Euri Carreon - ‘Unsatiationals’
Brendon Blair - ‘we were robbed of frutiger aero’
Erin Matheson Ritchie - ‘red-bellied’ and ‘an undoing’
Evelyn Vozar - ‘my grandmother pressed her hands to her heart after she prayed’
A HUGE thanks to all our contributors for trusting us with their work and making DOG TEETH real. <3
In the interim between issues, we asked past contributors for their thoughts on DOG TEETH, community, the creative process, and more.
FROM ISSUE ONE: INTERSPECIES, AN INTERVIEW WITH CAIRN DES LIONS
What does interspecies mean to you?
Interspecies is about relations between categories, between boundaries drawn in part by biology, in part by culture. It’s about seeing that humanity isn’t the sole source or even the pinnacle of wisdom and love. Interspecies connection is, to me, a way to embrace ambiguity and to recognize that human civilization is a bit absurd, and that there are possibilities beyond your current way of life. Making room for other animals in your life really shifts your priorities, I think.
Your piece in this issue, Whip Stitch, is gorgeous and fun and moving. I loved its exploration of the body and the ways in which we are linked to the people in our lives through the creation and recreation of ourselves. Was there any particular inspiration for this piece?
I kind of remember writing “Whip Stitch” in a fugue state after I couldn’t get the film adaptation of The Company of Wolves out of my head, so there’s a clear literary and cinematic inspiration. But I also think I was inspired to write it in a period of my life that was constantly and incredibly lonely. Loneliness is something I feel quite viscerally, to the point where it feels like I’m starving for other people. I was thinking about the moments in my life where someone I loved sustained me but also permanently altered me. I think one reason it’s easy to get lonely these days is that we’re all kind of afraid of each other, of the way we can change each other on even the level of flesh. I wanted to write my way out of that fear and out of that loneliness. I wanted to tell myself and others that becoming something else again and again is not just good but inevitable. It’s something I’m still trying to internalize. I’m honored “Whip Stitch” can be described with words like “moving”. In all my work I want to move you, as well as myself. It’s a dance!
In that same vein, are there any works in particular you find yourself drawing consistent inspiration from, or want to emulate in your own writing?
It’s hard to pin down specific works. The films The City of Lost Children and Labyrinth were two of my favorites as a kid and some of my first encounters with work that leans toward the magical and surreal but with a slightly more mature audience in mind. Lolita remains in my heart like a splinter since I read it at 16. Easily the authors who inspire me most are Angela Carter, Jeff Vandermeer, Anne Rice, and Stephen Graham Jones. Each has such a strong voice in their prose, and each constructs the world in ways that make sense to themselves emotionally. Angela Carter in particular has always made me feel compelled to dive into my own sensory experiences and sort of de/remythologize the things we take for granted about love, sex, the self, etc. Each of these authors also has a unique sense of humor, and I think being able to play when you write is a skill I want to develop.
I’d love to hear a little about your creative process, if you’d like to share.
I joked about writing “Whip Stitch” in a fugue state, but I had been thinking about the idea of shapeshifters who change by way of textiles for a while. Usually what happens is I have some kind of flash of an idea. Often it’s an image, but it can also be a sentence or a dream or something less concrete. It happens a lot when I’m trying to fall asleep or trying to wake up. I’ll hurriedly write it down as best I can, and then it usually marinates for a while. Sometimes I have to start writing about the idea as soon as it comes to me, but with “Whip Stitch” I definitely think I let it stew until it didn’t look like the thing I’d imagined in the first place. Once it was ready I sat down and spilled every last thought I had on the page for a bit, then came back the next day and cleaned it up into something I liked. In that way, I kind of write like I cook—make a delicious mess and clean it up later.
Are there any patterns within your own work that you love?
I think what I love the most is this need I have to bring an animal presence into my work. I’ve noticed that if I write something where the only creatures in it are humans, it feels less alive. I think this is one of the things that makes it obvious I like Angela Carter so much. Through fables and fairy tales, animals get to have their own voices and participate in our lives through narrative, and I know my work is incomplete without the animal voice. Also, I’ve noticed “Whip Stitch” is definitely not the only thing I’ve written with a strong textile motif. It feels natural to write characters who make things with their hands.
Do you have a favourite form of textile art?
I learned to hand sew and embroider when I was pretty young, so I definitely feel most comfortable with a needle in my hand. I do also love knitting. It has a kind of rhythm to it and it engages your fingers in a way I find deeply satisfying. I would one day like to try tapestry weaving, since I think it could be similarly rhythmic.
FROM ISSUE TWO: KIN, AN INTERVIEW WITH JADE WINTERBURN
Your piece, ‘A Story About Two Dogs in the Park’, was published in issue two: KIN. What does ‘kin’ mean to you?
I’m still working out what being kin with people means... But I was kinning being a dog really hard for a while there. "I am akin to dogs."
‘A Story About Two Dogs in the Park’ explores so many things close to my own heart, but one thing I wanted to ask you in particular is what ‘dogness/doghood/not-fully-human identity’ means to you in terms of community/kin.
I have very little idea how the person I was a year ago would've answered this. I think that being something else is a sensible response to dehumanisation, albeit one that gives ground to it. I think it could suggest continued growth where one has already been frustrated in their attempts to be themselves. I spent so long being an animal, it must have helped me cope. Surely, if I "wasn't a real person," couldn't love or be loved as one, I could still love and be loved as a dog. And while human beings are incredibly complex and challenging to care for, I knew I could care for dogs, and by treating myself like a dog that I had to take care of, I could start taking better care of myself, and I could definitely relate to other dogs.
Do you have any works that serve as consistent inspiration for you, or that you like to emulate in your own writing?
I've been pretty constantly inspired by Sea Witch, by Never Angeline Nørth. Sea Witch has maybe maintained a grip on me wherever I go. It's not something I want to emulate though. Some of my favourite things in the world I've had the thought "I'm so glad this exists, because now I don't have to make something like this."
Are there any patterns within your own works that you love?
In and Out.
I’d love to hear about your creative technique, if you’d like to share!
I do lots of different kinds of writing, so I have lots of different techniques. Towards the end of last year, I hit on a few things that worked extremely well for me. I wrote a few things in a trance, going line by line, inventing my ideas as I went along. I'd come out of my trance sitting in front of something I was convinced was perfect, A Story About Two Dogs in the Park and Harm Reduction, a short play being the best examples owing to the fact that they actually were pretty much perfect. Most of what I wrote during that time was practically unreadable to anyone but me and with some of it even I could see that I hadn't captured the ideas I was going for. Delirium is like that. "It comes in waves." People, typically talented career writers with a sizable output, say you shouldn't rely on inspiration as a writer, and they're right if you're trying to turn yourself into a words factory, but I'm already a words factory, and the vast majority of my output has the primary meaning of producing in me the feeling of being in company with others. That said, I do think there is a discipline to my inspiration to the point where I can say "I'm going to write something for this purpose" and just sit down and do it.
FROM ISSUE TWO: KIN, AN INTERVIEW WITH JIM REDFOOT
Your piece, ‘Road Trip’, was published in issue two: KIN. What does ‘kin’ mean to you?
As I age, kinship feels wider and more complicated than I ever thought possible. It is intimate and beautiful, something that cries out to be noticed, nurtured and protected. The bonds feel powerful, vulnerable or even dangerous. It is the mythical 'blood of the covenant' clashing with the water of the womb. 'Kin' means the relationships that are built and chosen in my life. It's different than the bonds and obligations that are hereditary or tied to social norms.
‘Road Trip’ is such a tender piece built on understanding and making space for the ones you love; I’m curious about your use of werewolves as vessels to tell such a story; what does their not-fully-human identity mean to you in terms of kin?
There's this idea of the secret self each person carries with them. Werewolves are beautiful, tragic and wild beings with hidden aspects that have some choice in what they show to others. They also possess an ability to explode with violent rage, maybe beyond their control. Physical changes as an expression of emotion, gender, sexuality or mental state is such an awesome concept. The idea of lycanthropy being hereditary, contagious, passed on intentionally, or even placed as a curse offers a lot of opportunity to explore kinship. Writing in a time of personal turmoil, where I was wrestling with my identity and self-imposed shame surrounding that, the idea of a reluctant shapeshifter at odds with his outward image was a great way to explore those feelings. My idea of 'monsters' embodied the realization that I don't have control of other people's perceptions, but there can be power and beauty in sharing one's true self to others. I think that is my key to finding kin, and the path to cultivating community.
Do you have any works that serve as consistent inspiration for you, or that you like to emulate in your own writing?
There's a few universes that I love to return to because they're so good at capturing the juxtaposition of the earthly and the supernatural. If I had to name a formative one, it would be Glen Cook's The Black Company series. You have this mercenary band of battle-weary misfits who get tossed headlong into a conflict far beyond their comprehension. Imagine yourself in a strange city with an unfamiliar culture having witnessed the priestly caste murdered by a seditious mob the previous week, finding even the most superstitious of citizens unsure if magic is real. But the crowds are whispering that a lightning bolt broke the seal of the old tomb on the hill last night, and something is screaming in the night. The books are fun and manage to be weighty, frightening, hopeful and visceral without dipping too much into the "grimdark" of more recent works.
I'm definitely on a werewolf kick the past few years, too. Angela Quinton's Werewolves Versus anthologies and the various authors/artists that are featured there have been a huge inspiration. Those volumes were a portal into a brand new world of artists whose works I now follow. I love to see their fiction, poetry and visual media. It's beautiful and alien, and makes me want to continue to make my own art.
Are there any patterns within your own works that you love?
Big emotions. I think if I'm working on something in my own life, that tends to bleed out onto the page. Writing helps me untangle my thoughts, chew on them in my head, and maybe turn that into an interesting piece of dialogue for a character.
I’d love to hear about your creative technique, if you’d like to share!
I am a serious daydreamer, and I get lost in thought when following the thread of a story or idea. The problem is committing them to memory in order to do something with them. If I file the thought away and continue about my day, I usually lose it forever. What works for me is writing down ideas, scenes and characters as they bubble up. I've struggled with insomnia in the past, and in the process of letting my mind wander in the darkness (painfully awake) I entertained myself with story ideas. I started writing on my phone's notepad. Over time I kept this up, pulling on those fibres of ideas at work, jotting things down on lunch breaks or in the evenings. I end up with a lot of story pieces, chunks of narrative, bits of dialogue that really pop. When I do sit down to write purposefully, I can usually take one or two of these snippets and run with it. 'ROAD TRIP' is a prime example of this. I had this image in my mind of Wyatt sitting on a cheap motel bed in the afternoon sunlight. I could see it through his eyes, and the details kept flooding in. I wanted to know more.
I also save my scraps! I have a separate document open when drafting and editing where I place cut material, just in case I need it and my memory betrays me. I write a lot of detail that doesn't necessarily move the plot, or fit the prompt. And that's OK - it helps me occupy the minds of the characters. There's a draft of 'ROAD TRIP' that approached 3,000 words before I started trimming.
COMMUNITY COLUMN
Don’t forget, if you have words to share that don’t fit our themed issues, you can always submit to our community column here! This time around we have three poems by [sarah]Cavar, originally published in Electric Lit. You can see more of their work at www.cavar.club, @cavarsarah on twitter, and at librarycard.substack.com.
My Autism Has a Mighty Appetite
Have you seen my autism?
It all started
when I was born.
Worse yet, it started
on the taxpayer dime
In the bathwater, in the atmosphere, even
in the baby
if a baby
can get tall enough for college.
It’s true, I am autism
But only when you ask
nicely.
My autism is gentle, yet growing
carnivorous.
Like Medusa, my autism
is something you maybe
shouldn’t see,
but if you do, you should
write a book about.
Someone told me
if a flower opens
wide enough
it just becomes a backwards
flower.
Sanded teeth become new teeth,
renarrated to points.
With enough training, I’m sure
I can make a point
myself, I can
settle on a sex
for this my waspish swarm.
Be whatever gentle in
tends itself to mean,
though I’ve been nouns
that would kill you
instantly.
I am autism, if you’re
willing. Autism,
if you’re down —
Gentle, I’m a horny orchid
impervious
to pest control.
This autism’s so long
it’s forgotten
how to stop.
When I taste blood
my mouth don’t see it
as a bad thing.
See, every night I affront the mirror
w/ sordid tales of glorified
flossing.
So ask me: Does all my narrow
make this teeth look fat?
/
I don’t know
about you, but I was born in the wrong
episteime. My contrite gums
are cherry, jaw fusty.
&thus my slutty canines make lust
to the sound of tribbing
paradigms.
&thus I have cavities in my
cavities and also many
unofficial holes.
PROJECT ANNOUNCEMENT
DOG TEETH is excited to announce its newborn little sibling: UNHUMAN is a zine built by the non-human for the non-human.
In the summer of 2023, I created DOG TEETH, a lit mag for the marginalised, the queer and species queer, and any + all voices that too often go unheard. I love DOG TEETH with all my heart and it's a project I'm really proud of; I'm trying to work on its capacity for community and build it up as a space for interaction and solidarity and kinship. But one thing that my heart aches for, whenever I'm editing or looking back over DOG TEETH issues, is a more defined space for art from explicitly non-human voices.
If you are a non-human of any description; be it were-beast, mechanical being, extraterrestrial, heavenly body, therian, undead, or inhuman creature of any stripe, we want to hear from you!!! This space is for you and your art; we want to see your world, your heart, your inhuman spirit.
UNHUMAN is designed to make space for unmasking from the human and writing what you know: what do you want to be heard? What do you seek to find? We want to be humbled by other non-humans and the ontologies they want to show us.
IF YOU AREN’T HUMAN, WE WANT YOUR WORDS:
Of course, DOG TEETH remains as is: feel free to send us your unhumanity there if you prefer, and DOG TEETH will always always always want everyone’s queer, weird words.
THANKS SO MUCH FOR READING!
As always, thank you so much to all our contributors - we would not be here without you, and we love being here!! Don’t forget our fundraiser for Palestine! Stuff coming very soon, but in the meantime, find us here and come say hi!
Coming soon:
issue four theme reveal and subs opening
PERIPHERY updates and release
potential super secret fun new community events reveal…