Salon of 1859
I long for the return of the dioramas, whose brutal and enormous magic has the power to impose on me a useful illusion. I would rather go to the theater and feast my eyes on the scenery, in which I …
Unidentified
UFO, streak. Sasquatch, stroll.
A majority of flamingoes aren’t plastic.
Imagine the world a plum we could juice
every morning this century for the antidote
to time and space. Well, I’m on a bus
upstate just because
it’s Mothers’ Day, …
Walking in the Graveyard
When I walk into the graveyard I can see a light on in the house from over the wrought iron spires of the old rusted fence. Behind me, the lights of the fried chicken hut are the same color as …
Talking Trout