Featured publications, writing, zines, poems.
Sick Portrait I, published in The New River Journal of Electronic and Digital Literature, Fall 2025
Video description: Animated visual poem called “sick portrait I” made of ASCII (computer key) elements. The visual is image of an unclothed person with long hair wearing a mask and floating in a sea (made up of blue text) with their head laying on a pillow. The person’s chest and abdomen features a large gash opening that extends to their pelvis. On either side of the person are ASCII swirl motifs and text, surrounded with a border or ASCII motifs. The text inside the person’s chest reads “every time things get worse, I am born again and again and again and”. The writing on either side of the person floating in the ocean, interspersed around the swirl motifs, reads “spacetime, as told to me by god, exists on a spectrum (under the duvet) between honey and water. thickening in and out of flagellation and negotiation (just like how I ended up here again) the debt too, the sea, crests and falls, every time anew”. Words in the border around the image and text elements include “honey”, “water”, “zenith” and “nadir” as if offering compass orientations.
Overall, sick portrait I builds a meditative, collapsing narrative around bed-bound illness and explores the warped, isolated, and often frozen or fast-flowing temporality of queer disabled life. The bed becomes an ocean of grief and guilt as the subject tries to ground themselves one more time in their own deserving and resilience.
Selected publications
- our body is a web, Disability Arts and Culture: A Collaborative Zine (forthcoming, 2026)
- It’s My Body And I’ll Hack at it If I Want To, published in Women’s Studies Quarterly: Body Matters, Fall 2025
- heavy sums, published in Riddle Fence Magazine, Issue no. 55
- tide patterns, Humana Obscura “Blue” Anthology, Fall 2024
Zines, writing

cloud factory (2019) is a micro fiction zine.
“i don’t recall the details, but i have run away to this strange place with coconut trees lining the roads and warm winds lifting at our seams. there is sand, and in the sand, gray cats and birds that cannot fly. a desert city, desolate but lush. i’m at what seems to be a laundry factory (it’s my first day, you see).”
© Lohitha Kethu, 2025. all rights reserved




