“The extra lines are probably all wrong, but—right as you are—I could not stop. By the time you get this note, I will have gotten rid of them, myself.” —Samuel …

It is good to be finished, finally. I am relieved. The protesters and politicians have their points, and if a certain species of man is allowed to fade into extinction …

My intern swings a lantern through the swamp. Bloodhounds on the track of the elusive mind map, in our boat we nose over ghost orchids, cull lucid proofs from the …

External conditions conspire to slip along the waxy thread of your nerves and hunker down, cathectic, in the carry-on you keep at the ready for a flight from the everyday. …

With no one to properly apply the tourniquet, he afforded himself the rare opportunity to just bleed everywhere. On the bedskirt, the garlic bowl, the painting of a smudge that …

In Egyptian art, one archer stands For all archers, Their contour drawn from his thigh, his shin, his chest, His bow and quiver, A deck of desires slightly spread. Archers …

Not Winnifred the town we couldn’t see. The fox we weren’t sure was a fox but might have been if not a mutt. Not the way we— the air conditioning—not …

Du Fu, you doofus, that’s not a goose. You’re drunk. Please allow me to introduce… no, that’s not your horse. (No, nor woman neither.) Into every life a little Freud …

When he broke, he broke like an oak box full of castanets tossed into the frozen river. He broke like a stuntman through the plate glass of Odysseus’ conscience. Broke …