Nov, 05 2019 | no responses
Photo by Alexander Fink When my great-uncle died, his children held the wake in the old house, the house he had grown up in, inherited, and condemned in his will. He wanted his house’s story to end when his did. This was a selfishness I understood. I’d read somewhere that no structure is ever really […]
Nov, 05 2019 | no responses
Photo by chessboard35 Teeth, glamorous teeth. Whiter than white: glint. How can you call a color a word? Flimsy netting of the exuberant verb of it— all swan and longing and snow. But we were talking about teeth, how I stole one from my first-grade class, decomposing in a dirt-colored glass of Coke next to […]
Ten Girls Stepping into and out of the Light
Nov, 05 2019 | no responses
Photo by Theo Crazzolara Girl A, always Girl A, dives headlong into her own skin as she steps into a vehicle of light, skin rushing to catch up, closing enclosing her, in within the steps the box she carves out the vertical column of space that is hers, shadow edging close into the vertical column […]
Nov, 05 2019 | no responses
Photo by Stephen Kruso In summer, its trees blaze with color, their fingers spilling over the tenants. There is a smoker, our fixture, his cough a deep chime. One, two. His second-floor watch is consistent but punctuated. There are children, creatures of the afternoon, DayGlo bicycles lurching forward with half-flat white tires. Sometimes, I come […]
sound of wave in channel, Books I and II
Oct, 28 2019 | no responses
Ratcliffe’s words carry in them the promise that, somewhere in this sustained observation, there is an inroad to knowing.
Oct, 14 2019 | no responses
Ancient stories of transformation are again transformed by Rekdal’s telling, and it’s impossible to read their contemporized violence without the lens the #metoo movement has given us. For Rekdal, transformation is not simply progression, but fragmentation, and Nightingale stays honest to this truth.