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Monthly Archives: August 2022
Baffling the Sphinx
The word is my fourth dimension–Clarice Lispector And on the eighth and endless day, where the bottomless hallelujah meets Ouroboros, God created Clarice Lispector. Maybe. Maybe the music of that name was more pure music and vivid living syntax, and … Continue reading
Posted in Books, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications
Tagged agua viva, avant garde, Books, brazil, clarice lispector, cronicas, Prose, Review, riot material, too much of life, writing life
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Dust in the Wind
Much here is caked in dust. Dust-skinned dogs and dust-skinned horses. Dust-coated houses in ruin, the staccato of ruins, the oldlife song of decay, dreams move sluggishly here at the pace of dust, the swirling eddies of dust, dust in … Continue reading
Affair to Remember
Sea, I never want to marry you. I want us to have a never-ending fling, a love affair flooded with longing and desire … I want to miss you … want to remain missably yours … want to miss you … Continue reading
Sentenced
I, a lone comma pulsing within the voluptuous grammar of the ocean.
Judy Garland
You’ve got to make up your mind, he said. Do you want to fuck Judy Garland or be Judy Garland? It seemed my entire life would be determined by how I responded. I could tell, by the gravelly … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged black and white, childhood, color, dorothy, fragment, judy garland, oz, Prose
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Newsflash
Heaven commits the meek to memory. Amnesia forgets itself to leaven the uninhibited rise of days lusting after dreams this side up.
Borneo on Mars
There is the glass ashtray. The mangled cigarettes. The hotel room. The window open with the breeze coming in, ruffling the curtains. The breeze is lace fingers. Tiny fingers. There is the unevenly applied lipstick. The besieged housemaid. There is … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged borneo, every story, fragment, mars, mexico maybe, place somewhere, Prose
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Cherry and Claudia
She asked me to touch her. Down there. It’s been so long, she said. I feel like a coffin. Just use your fingers. I was reluctant. When she said—It’s just your hand, it’s not you—I thought—It’s just my hand, not … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry, Prose
Tagged fingers, fragment, hands, sex, the sea, two women, wheneverwhyever
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As Fate Would Have It
“Fate will have it—and this has always been the case with me—that all the ‘outer’ aspects of my life should be accidental. Only what is interior has proved to have substance and a determining value.” — Carl Jung He knew … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry
Tagged fate, forests, inside job, interior, internal, pathways, poem, psyche
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