He plays a train. She plays a whistle. They move away. He plays a rope. She plays a tree. They swing. More

The Cup

She extinguished the lights except one candle and placed her finger on the cup and repeated words like an incantation: O spirit . . . If thou are present, answer Yes. And then… More

The War Works Hard

How magnificent the war is! How eager and efficient! Early in the morning it wakes up the sirens and dispatches ambulances to various places swings corpses through the air rolls stretchers to the wounded summons rain from the eyes… 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

Paulo Henriques Britto: Lullaby

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’oeil

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