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LaTasha N. Nevada Diggs

Years: 2001, 2002, 2004



Writer, vocalist, and sound artist, LaTasha N. Nevada Diggs is the author TwERK (2013, Belladonna); three chapbooks which include Ichi-BanNi-Ban (MOH Press), Manuel is destroying my bathroom (Belladonna Press); and the album, Televisíon. Her work has been published in Rattapallax, Black Renaissance Noir, Nocturnes, Fence, Ploughshares, The Black Scholar, P.M.S, LA Review, Jubilat, Everything But the Burden, Tea Party Magazine, Mandorla: New Writings from the Americas, and Muck Works to name a few.  Her interdisciplinary work has been featured at The Kitchen, Exit Art, Recess Activities Inc, the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth Texas, The Whitney and MoMa among others.  As a vocalist, she has worked with the likes of Vernon Reid, Akilah Oliver, Mike Ladd, Butch Morris, Gabri Christa, Shelley Hirsch, Burnt Sugar, Edwin Torres, Elliot Sharp, Mendi + Keith Obadike, Bernard Lang, Vijay Iyer, Ryuichi Sakamoto, Marc Cary, Towa Tei, and Guillermo E. Brown. She has received scholarships, residencies, and fellowships from Cave Canem, Harvestworks Digital Media Arts Center, Naropa Institute, Caldera Arts, New York Foundation for the Arts, the Eben Demarest Trust, Harlem Community Arts Fund, Lower Manhattan Cultural Council, Rockefeller Brothers Foundation, Laundromat Project, Virginia Center for the Creative Arts, the Barbara Deming Memorial Grant for Women, the Jerome Foundation and the National Endowment for the Arts. As an independent curator and artistic director, LaTasha has co-presented and directed literary/musical events at Symphony Space, Lincoln Center Out of Doors, WBAI, The Schomburg Center for Black Culture, BAM Café and El Museo del Barrio.  A native of Harlem, is the co-founder and editor of Coon Bidness/SO4 Magazine.  






omens, 1781 (voc de micaela)



that morning … I found a snake … in our home … I killed it quickly

I lifted my skirt … and pissed … upon it … with bare feet

… I crushed it


but which foot works better? … the right … or the left?


tonight … I called you the moon … your hair surrounds

your face … blue black … how the stars are flickers … from the river


beside our incinerated home … we are ashes … sacrilege

they split us … then hang us … no one is left to covet our remains


they won’t allow … our flesh … to return to our father … my love

…  did we speak too proudly?



sonqoq  qosayan (the heart of my husband)


manupayanki  upa sankhaman


you make love to the muffled abyss


chhallunki saqrata


you ruin the devil


wachanki kuchikunata wayronqokunata


you give birth to pigs and bees


aqtunki ch’onqankiri upakunata


you vomit and suck up the fools


ñutunki ch’aranchankiri purunkunata


you grind and make wet the deserts