Tonight I Facebook under-share a million thoughts imploding in my brain: Wineglass drying mat … Brandi Carlile hugs with song, stay in touch with your grand- daughter. Instead I watched Claude Monet paint water lilies. Repeated brush strokes at Giverny in a 30-second...
The elder sister eats a bloated honeybee, pinches it between her fingers, brings it to her lips, and sucks it down her throat, stinger and all. The corseted moon lobotomized her and crowned her sister. They wear a cape of hairy caterpillars stitched together. The...
You said that thirty was the new twenty just like love was the new war. I failed to see the difference before. For my birthday dress I wore a bustle of mandrake root to multiply my selves. I didn’t wash, it was only going to be us. I went barefoot and barefaced, tied...
part I talking with my historian is throwing up at the art museum descending a staircase nude emerging from a well to shame mankind an earthly garden of delights i’ve never carved anything from marble or a rougher stone my sense of permanence was learned from...
Originally published as ‘Non parlarmi mai di cose che non hanno anima’ Translated from the Italian by Stefano Paparo Never speak to me of things without soul they don’t do it for me or for you. Leave them to those who have moments to waste, to those...
Originally published as ‘Senza niente addosso’ Translated from the Italian by Stefano Paparo A day will come in which you will ask me why I love you. I will answer with the only image of you I know: against a white wall naked without needing a why or a when, without a...
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