Tag Archives: Prose

Because the Night

Half-punk-scarecrow, half-mystic-urchin, Patti Smith seems to exist on the yellowed edges of saudade: the time-carved café table, the books she carried with her on her trips (as trusted and beloved companions), the way she packs light like The Fool, her … Continue reading →

Posted in Artwork, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Sepia

Nostalgia is a death-trap, eating its own tail and leading nowhere. Nostalgia copulates with ghosts in dusty storage rooms and snakelike corridors. Now and again and again now never is nostalgia’s recipe and calling card. Nostalgia is the last picture … Continue reading →

Posted in Artwork, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Way Station

I walked to the train station at night. I was going to drive. It was a hot day, I had already been out walking in the sun, and I thought—just drive to the train station. But when it was time … Continue reading →

Posted in photography, Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Of Place and Haunt

It was a town caught in the thorny stasis between living and dying, between mortuary and chrysalis. I want to examine why it is I am drawn to places like this, why I always return to this specific feeling of … Continue reading →

Posted in Artwork, photography, Poetry, Prose, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Miko

Miko was a singer with her voice in the clouds. They called Miko blue. Occasionally there would be flashes of red. In the fall, Miko would softly mimic the elegy of leaves and become yellow. She would, in voice and … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Passion of Joan of Arc

“To know the face of Renee Maria Falconetti, a living mask of plasticity molded to the inner world of a young Joan, is to know the private history of a spiritual crisis. Falconetti wrings every last nuance and syllable out … Continue reading →

Posted in Artwork, Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized, Video | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Bert and George

“All Bert and George ever did was wander in the desert. An endless wandering, sandblasted peregrinations to nowhere, a tubercular odyssey with no point. They wandered, kept each other company, drove each other nuts, got into and out of scrapes … Continue reading →

Posted in Artwork, Audio, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Publications, Theater, Uncategorized, Video | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Seance

It was a time in her life when she was not there, not inside herself or her life. And she was pregnant. Pregnant by the wrong man, so many wrong turns and wrong men, and this one, a mislaid night … Continue reading →

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Moonstruck

A lamp clicks on. A swath of gauzy light projects cinematically onto a chrome operating table, where an umbrella and a sewing machine are making love. Are about to make love. Have already made love. Their romance transcends tenses and … Continue reading →

Posted in Artwork, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Moratorium

I. Beckett spoke about it: the inability to keep quiet. The incapacity to not say stories, not write stories, not place oneself inside stories in which you make and unmake and remake yourself endlessly, an orgy of particles constellating jittery … Continue reading →

Posted in Artwork, Books, Cinema, photography, Poetry, Press, Prose, Theater | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment