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...
I am walking in washington square parkit is busy the hawks arenot out everyone at NYU is graduating everyone at NYU is taking selfies inpurple robes the kids are smoking the kids are selling t shirts sewn out of other t shirtsthe kids are playing music so loud the...
The fireflies are frantically signalling, but singly,taunting like a game of incandescent whack-a-mole;slight movements in the grass, not lingering, just tingly,tiny flares that die as our eyes race and gambol. Are these the night-school teachers, nihilistsin...
Arco, ID 2019 the desert submarine does not speakbut a sliver of daylight persistsbetween the sail and its concrete base the sail is all that remainsof the Hawkbill and it castsa deep shadow in which I stand to escape the sun; it seems a monolith awaitingworship...
