You ain’t shit North Dakota – you’re all snow and flat and forever horizon. You fly-over state. You MAGA hat, Fox News junkie.The year I left it snowed on June 1st. June 1st you motherfucker.Can’t bury the dead in a North Dakota winter unless you bonfire first.My 18th...
Photo by Mike Towber, Some rights reserved. for Michael Wells You tell me a staircase that leads to nowhere is your recurring dream just moments before you teach me the Welsh word hiraeth, and it’s as if you’ve used a magic spell: I now have that intense homesickness...
of loadbearing supports and span-riseratios. Of harmonic proportionsand Pythagorean mysticism. I couldn’t marvel at the bright shops jutting from the Ponte Vecchiowithout a lecture on ancient architectureand the ongoing perils of gravity. I couldn’t wonder aloud how...
We enter a palace room for a second time, the one where stags holdsome of my ancestors’ names. So many mouths, some little flies. Camera catch the pitch of my smug.You try not to spout. My wet crest. The stags on a ceiling of gilded pens. So a lens under my chin makes...
for Mary For fear of polio, as a child,I’d been made to wear a bathing cap,not allowed to get hair wet as I swam. But now here we were: Behind us a cliff,and before us water cascading down,an in-between space,like dusk or dawn. This was not a celebrated waterfall.And...
honestly? the thing is, it’s noteven nice here. I love it herebut it’s not nice – it’s distinctive.and I think if I’m honestthat I averaged happierin london and happier in torontoand much happier alsoin new york up therewatching manhattan...
