Online Exclusives

The man is in the backyard, quoting to the stars a secret
only his heart knows, smiling at the moon first, and then  [...]

I’m telling you this because you don’t remember. [...]

The room where I’m
kept is all        glass. [...]

Here is a quotation from G. K. Chesterton: “Poets do not go mad; but chess players do. Mathematicians go mad, and cashiers; but creative artists very seldom. [...]

Before me lies a man. Perhaps handsome once, time has flattened his features, eroded the tightness of character—a creased brow, a drooped nose. [...]

These things without nature, proper nature that is, of a terrestrial kind. Devoid of the essential forepart. But with wings. [...]

    There’s the desire to return, to love, to not be absent,
and the desire to die, fought by two
opposing waters that are never to be an isthmus. [...]

Ma, there’s rope in my soup.
      Eat it or you can’t watch the hanging. [...]

In January, during the deepest part of winter, after two years of pleading on my part not to mention numerous gifts and blandishments and increasingly lucrative proposals, she once again agreed to be photographed. [...]

When a longing exceeds its object, a suburb is founded.
Goatsuckers spar in the linden. The redskins are hunted. [...]

There was nothing left for me after that but the beach—the grey afternoon—bells of cable cars over the lyme grass and a field of desiccated husks sprawling along the dunes. I was nineteen—or—twenty—as I have said, again and again—and will continue to say—fully-clothed and shivering over the sand in delicate measured steps. [...]

There’s a tower the lake calls Brother.
She whispers, someone has lost a white dress
in my eye that swims like nightfish. [...]

In prehistoric times there was balance.
Bedrooms were charming and restful
animals would travel for miles
to be blinded by the beauty of the dawn. [...]