Prior EveningDeath waits in the insignificance of a plum tart.In the remote darkness of the fridge,it slumbers lightly, immersed in custard.The hour is sluggish. The house sleeps unabridged.All night… More

AcrobatBetween word and thinga leap over nothing.Around the wordthe myriad layers of dreams.An onion. An atom.A ravenous onion.Between one layer and anothernothing.The layers leap over the void,take the hollows by… More

FalangeOur arrival is gradual, discreet,but we’re certain, as certainas six and seven make thirteen.The hour doubles itself, heightensas we drive past, ever smugand rounding up silences.We’re severe, as completeas… More

LullabyNight after night, exhausted,digesting the day, past wordsand this side of sleep, we lie simplified,stripped of past lives and projects,weary of voices and verticals,relieved to be only bodies side… More

Trompe l'oeilAll the failures of an existence,when meticulously compiled,and given a certain coherence,resemble a sort of pyramid—monumental—though truncated,maybe—when seen from a distanceat the precise moment the fadingsun reaches it,… More