Monthly Archives: November 2012
“Night-Goat”
I am interminably white. I limp, gasping and feathery, into your last blueness. I want the adoration of flowers. O tightly wrapped little things, cheeky reds, delectable yellows, how they close against me! How do they know my beauty’s all glam glitter over bone?
“SAMARKAND”
It is as if the old woman in the square raised her hand to you, and I, the devoted master, packed you off to Samarkand, thinking you would be safe from her influence. There is no Samarkand in these parts, nor dark old women known
“A Room in the Museum”
In Teotihuacán, we walk on sheets of glass, thick enough to sustain our heavy heels as we tread the sky of the model Aztec city beneath us, scaled and laid out like a blanket. Outside, there are ruins. In here, things are complete, and we