it doesn’t take a Husserl to connect her plots first you...
More poetry than can be lived, though God knows, he tries…...
Crack the Spine. Bend a fresh book until your hands meet...
The Incident, as it came to be known throughout the school...
A fragment of his bone was said to be asleep within...
The black navel of contemplation—the theater hall— throbs, brash flashes of...
Freeways curve and lift like air currents, move through the inland...
A mystic time exists amid loathed last calls and sunrise splendor:...
It must have been a toy. That pink thing in the...
Wading through an apocalypse of fallen dreams, asphalt grinds my toenails...
the wall between us was so thin / i could hear...
Not so complacent in her dressing gown, the sensuous world remains...