Amend the night and listen to it buzz. Butts of cigarettes rest in the ashtray, coax the sweet dampness of the equinox deep into their filters. evensongs, footnotes of the highway’s rev, found coiling around the day like kudzu, gagging the ultraviolet quiet out. Here is the still, collective unconscious. Idée fixe. Jargon to honor … Continue reading →

1. We lived one summer without walls. No sheetrock, just cherry brick from outside and the slivers of light that stretched between the cracks. We could hear the fruit man’s lucid voice through the skeleton of our row home. He called cantaloupe and watermelon, grapes and apples and then laughed a bit as the clicking … Continue reading →