Hypnerotomachia Polia
Inspired by Hypnerotomachia Poliphili and written from Polia’s perspective. A reader suggested to me that this could be interpreted as a story of sexual violence (and I don’t contest the validity of...
View ArticlePlague in the city upon a hill
America’s greatest living writer is a forty-nine year-old management consultant with a shattered moral compass and a cardboard box of unfinished manuscripts in the trunk of his silver Miata. He spends...
View ArticleEcstasies of Persephone
Finally, fall. I roll the bike out of storage. Like the grass underfoot, the air is cool to the touch. I ride down a maple-lined street to the corner store, where I buy freshly roasted coffee beans and...
View ArticleRuled by the ram
About a hundred meters away from my apartment, between two groves of trees and a red-shingled temple, is a bakery that has been shuttered for eight years, ever since the owner hung herself from a...
View ArticleThe first time
(A companion of sorts to: Hypercritical; Love it if we made it) Here we are again, having a different version of the same conversation. The first time we did this, it felt like playing in a tropical...
View ArticleKoukai City, 2024
Crying piteously in the back of a taxicab that is ferrying me, with the discrete resoluteness of death’s own boatman, across expressways wet with melting snow. A chunk of ice breaks off a sign above...
View ArticleStream-of-consciousness under the pitiless full moon
Forlorn, a foal in a cheap two-piece suit. You’re a baby, and then you’re an ancient. You’re a pink tear, glistening like Venus, sliding down the glass, drop-shaped and delicate, until you’re a tear in...
View ArticleMemory of the memory of the memory of the memory
In the land of my father, as I recall, there was a pink Ganesha Scotch-taped to the back of the door. I pushed the door open, one hand parallel to the face of the idol, into the twisted light of a blue...
View ArticleMean something, mean something, mean something
I am feeling—not thinking—something so sad and so needy and as this feeling widens within me and begins to bubble at my edges, like the frothy tide, my hand jerks in reaction, toward the squareish...
View ArticleEasy does it now
I love how the bright winter light lays over the landscape. Like precision-cut puzzle pieces, extracted from the blonde wood of another world. In strong angles across building facades. Through windows,...
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