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Tweet The semicolon is the most complex of all punctuation marks; it is also the most beautiful. Aesthetically dazzling, it comprises two separate symbols; simple, primordial. A hovering sun vertically pursued by fingernail moon; ovum overhanging an intrepid, eager sperm. A fresco of tension: the semicolon as seen by a sensitive semiotician is emblematic . . . → Read More: ; Tweet I see a woman with double chins, both overgrown with a downy blonde pelt, as I drive south on state route 90. Darker hairs, spangled through the goatee, are stiff and perpendicular to her face. She coughs, belches—something— some full-body spasm sends pink debris spraying. It becomes flocking for the glass and dusty vinyl . . . → Read More: Fat Woman in an ’89 Camry Tweet I She wears her hair in pigtails every day, even though it’s uncomfortable, even though she hates it. When he sneaks up from behind and tugs twice on the left one, it translates roughly to “I love you” in a secret language spoken soundlessly by embarrassed failing fathers everywhere. II She plays the piano . . . → Read More: Beauty Tweet I just want to be the soft flocking of yellow light in a young girl’s bed- room as she writes her diary, feeling comforted, warm, held. And when she closes the book, ties back hair and dampens the billiard green lamp on a bedside table, I could become the stars. Is this too much . . . → Read More: Paige Tweet The way it feels for the first quarter-minute is a consolidation of all desire. The begging, pleading, simpering; the washcloth wring torsion of pure, desperate need. It is the chest-top deadweight of snot wet sobbing. And then because of this raw, perfect concentrate, it bows at the edges, inverts, becomes a soft oblivion that . . . → Read More: Moksha By Way of Track #2 Tweet The sunrise at 30,000 fee is not a sunrise at all. It is a fishbowl of neon gravels; ruler straight lines forming strata. With the curve of horizon, it is a turned over Jell-O mold, a colloid prism, a colloid prison: the place where old light is sentenced to become solid. It is the . . . → Read More: From an Airplane Window Tweet The color of your eyes is a complete surprise to me. I’ve never considered it. You’re sitting across from me and you’re brooding, bellicose. I have no right to be shocked, but your attitude is not the one I expected. When I spoke to you Tuesday you insisted, even sounded enthusiastic. But settling on . . . → Read More: Here Is My Only Elsewhere |
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