With a friend this weekend, I remarked of someone who took a risk and died young that it was his fate. “But you don’t believe in fate, do you?,” my friend said. I said I di… Read More
The museum was anthropological in the obsolete style, and I could see the fluidity of the categories, on the one hand, of black, primitive, and native cultures and, on the other, the cluster… Read More
I first worked in stone, doing a couple of abstract pieces in the style of Henry Moore. Then I worked in clay. I remember a life-like life-sized head, a self-portrait, the oval head resting… Read More
The filled mind fills things, as water full of fish fills, via gills, the finny tribe Read More
1 Snow maps the hill. The white continents shrink and each drowns in muddy earth. 2 Grass grows into the month of March without a sound. An invisible beard. 3 Spring will catch our souls, ne… Read More
Ulyss. is lovely blooming loopiness of vowels, wording all pout and roundy. “A tilted urn poured from its mouth a flood of bloodhued poplin: lustrous blood.” Read More
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