



a sizeable valley snoring
afternoon canals– windows
view finery
(starcastle)
pleasant catullus
foresaw his death
buried along
a whole house




the imagination of the rose
for Leonard Cohen
a solid sky weeps
for its lack.
everything is foliage
everything is desire.
a higher beauty washing itself
deflowers grace.
all horrors are only
half remembered
breeding laughter
and scraping the conjured

Update
Working lately, preparing to dive into this upcoming ice storm. Sickened by the news coming from Minneapolis.
Upcoming, plenty of translations–mainly from the French and Spanish–, a new multimedia version of Hamlet, a collection of poems and photographs entitled 8 Poems, a novel about flowers, and I am preparing the launch of a new magazine called Saleté that will incorporate art, literature, chess, and science. I am also working on a new travelogue about my recent (and frankly wonderful) trip to New Orleans.
Stay safe out there, whether you’re in the middle of this cold front, dealing with ICE, or just trying to survive.
My love to you all, always.
What are you working on today? And where are you working?
Also, if you are MAGA, I’d love to speak with you. I cannot understand your position and would love some insight into why you feel the way you feel. We cannot lose open, peaceful dialog. Thank you in advance.
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