photography
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Vicious Mercy (Vermeer in Death Valley, 2020)
Leave Vermeer alone. When I write The girl is dying I do not mean to enter the girl nor deconstruct her state of abstract goingness. It’s a figure beyond an open window in a time of plague. Disemboweled skywriting or the family name forgotten in water. Which is to say: Vicious mercy becomes the uncountable…
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The Lady of the House Puts the Alarm Clock in a Drawer
‘Lightly, Very Lightly’ by Mary Ruefle It was raining. I could hear the raintaking the pins out of her mouth.Soft rain became hard rainso that hard things became soft things.The wet leaves under the trees became heavy as diapers,the book left openon the grasscould finally sink in her bathwithout a word,the way, after a hard…
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The Great American Rebrand
taos taupe on the meaningless wall an advert for the effortless lightning that fills one’s body 1960s if i had to guess masked up against the russian nike strife force members of which giddily violate the agreed upon terms of the hue and colorway sapphire mayan air force marine corpsdozens of dead children some touristsnote…
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200! (Dog Talk)
200! the old mutt sayshallelujah and forevermorethe rats of uskeep banging on that drumif the sky has his wayif the shy sky has his wayfrank o’hara blessed meearly in my career — he blurbedmy christening i’ll pray for yousays the well intentioned divorceereally where would we be without softscrub the bathroom would be the barnno…
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Good Blue Clay
Tanka, by Ono No Oyu The city of Nara of good blue clay glows like a blooming flower, now at its prime Source: Ono No Oyu. “Tanka.” From the Country of Eight Islands: An Anthology of Japanese Poetry, edited by Hiroaki Sato and Burton Watson. New York: Columbia University Press, 1987, p. 43. Photo: Church…
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The Fiction of Time Destroyed
‘Anticipation of Love’ by Jorge Luis Borges Neither the intimacy of your look, your brow fair as a feast day,nor the favor of your body, still mysterious, reserved, and childlike,nor what comes to me of your life, settling in words or silence,will be so mysterious a giftas the sight of your sleep, enfoldedin the vigil…
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A Great First Line
“When you are all sinew, struggle and solitude, your young — being soft, plump, vulnerable — may remind you of prey.” “Ducks, Newburyport” Lucy Ellmann
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On the Roof of Wannsee Villa
with no ill intention to the artistwhat the fuck were you thinkingthe mangy dog and the electro-magnetic implantfine! but replacing the u with the v?what a braggadocious pile of staten island’s finestpiled up to intellectualaffidavits — i once asked allen ginsbergshould i be scared when the polishbarrister holds a luger to my templeand demands fried…
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‘Greenwich Avenue’ by James Schuyler
In the evening of a brightlyunsunny day to watch back-lightedbuildings through the slitsbetween vertical strips of blindsand how red brick, brick paintedred, a flaky white, gray orthose of no color at all takethe light though it seems onlyabove and behind them so whatshows below has a slight evening“the day—sobs—dies” sadness and the sun marches on.…
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Awaiting Diagnosis
who whips little wooden orbits sayshello i am laughtersoured there isgrass mown & wind stilled & i have come up to the hole& found it lacking
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