Fame There are some people who can barely be tolerated in person but are beloved as fictional characters. One reads about them in a book or watches them on a screen, and one feels special because one recognizes their beauty. But when one meets them in person, one...
Licking Time There’s a fortune to be made thinking about licking the bare upper thigh of historical figures. The way the first person gave up all hope echoes in everyone everywhere forever. Wearing animal print, and writing poems one can get close to the world licking...
Receipt Bus stops are one full breath apart Is why men drink in them. Their poor slow hearts, Their poor slow blood. Leant on elbows on knees they Hawk up galaxies. The car becomes a well when you Cry there. 24h carpark. —Without my Marrow and the wind blows I’m a...
Chalk Poem The long cool freedom pure as a stick of chalk powdering against the edge of jealousy hard and green, also cool a tongue in your mouth an equation in your mind about where purity goes as it’s clapped against a tree trunk, the side of a building leaving...
What's Available for Happy Hour? “Nothing, happy hour is from four till five.” “Really?” “It’s a literal hour.” “So, by extension all other hours are unhappy?” “Not necessarily. There are sad hours, bored hours, angry hours, even ecstatic hours, though some forms of...
Stealing Life Closer and closer to fifty, years turn months, weeks, days, and I have trouble staying asleep. Around two I get up to read in the living room, then lie down, this time on the couch, turning the transistor radio to KGO, distracting myself, returning, life...
free country your voice on the phone in the dream is disinterested I miss you I say It’s a free country a moth falls through the door drunk on light the same one that flies out of my wallet how have I never seen him I think coming home —Evan Laffer STILL THE SAME...
Cowsong Guide me into the depths, where the lack of oxygen intercepts the thing no human accepts. Yet here I am, alive: a joke the wind might contrive. Underneath the beat of your blood, feet in the stars, face in the mud. I can hear your brains beat and your heart...
Apple Every day an anxious man appears in my apple and offers me a Magritte. Jackson Pollock Sometimes the Americans form a circle around something awful that has happened. Sometimes it is a painting. The Tao It’s easy to have no path and no plans, but it isn’t very...
Reservoir You take the back lane, following the curve of street until it meets the steps to the reservoir. At the top, triumphant, you stop for a cigarette, puffing smoke in the face of legs and lungs. Let them burn this day before your cross- examination. In England,...
Vincent's Blackberries Buying blackberries, you held out on me in Hollywood Erewhon. Tonight is Friday, Christmas lives on and on. Vincent was out in Aries eyes and feeling good, wanting to meet people: other people who buy blackberries I was by myself in mascara and...
No One Loves Me Like You Do A soft and rotten moment of loving you hits the pavement like seasonal fruit gone overripe. Skipping to the part where you leave a cigarette burning in my ashtray, I take out eyes swollen by another’s prying that pass through the mouth and...
Foreign Language Film I dream of two strangers having sex. There’s a song on in the background, it’s not in English, I don’t know what language it is. This was the night after the night I cried into my wine at a fried chicken restaurant. It’s never the person, it’s...
Poem April 3 The language you are now reading will be born tomorrow morning when the sun that resides in each one of us turns back into music. You and I will be in transit, as usual, rolling along the new roads, practicing our stories in case we’re asked about our...
shift work twin heads pillow moments away only seats left in the front the forgiving distortion the forgetting of plot so grateful that the light should bow to take the shape of your mouth a movie where she’s so tired from watching him sleep all day —Evan Evans...
Silicon Valley A cloud is the earth displaced for tracks of cable underground, underwater A stream is the friction between content and a beckoning hand To kindle is to adjust the climate dial in a server farm An antenna is the arc of pesticide as it is sprayed...
Kiefer Lights a Big Cigar & waves the heavy machinery into place He rearranges the rubble speaking whichever language suits the occasion He & Tony saunter through a tunnel in the South of France “It’s my gesture” is what he says about his art His use of...
The Mind Wanders We pass 6th street at eight o’clock. This is not remarkable but sometimes one can do something countless times and remain enchanted. The colors aren’t the same. Once blue, now purple, then red. No two things are alike an hour later but they...
Subscribe to our weekly Gallery Rounds Newsletter for new Reviews, Art opps, Art Events, & More every week!
