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Author Archives: perfectsublimemasters
My life is falsified. Someone asks if I am single and I hesitate. Somehow I have the feeling he’s much better at acting. I swap out fellowship for quiet rooms as much as I possibly can. Dinner invitations cause emotional … Continue reading
Nostalgic as scars/ brought to our knees by our own hands/ the world undoing itself does not faze us/ when his mouth mangles mine/ I write of love/ I write of a country racked/ of women marrying their rapists/ hometowns … Continue reading
I was taking a long walk, the first day I had stepped out of the house in an unmarked direction, just a squiggly line on a trail map. I wanted to lose myself. My son had died a month ago … Continue reading
after John Koenig after The Dead Toreador, Édouard Manet, 1864 All the art in Seville is making our eyes bleed. We cannot bear the beauty of another palacio of a million mosaics, or the clatter of one more café. We … Continue reading
It was June, in Allen Gardens, at Sherbourne and Gerrard. Night was coming. Dogs frolicked in the fountains. I heard the sound of sirens, and everything smelled warm and fecund, like semen. The tiny pale petals of the Callery pear … Continue reading
You talk about Daniel, dancing. How he was beautiful and nonchalant, how he was slinking so close to the earth. How yet he was lifted, birdlike, transcendent, clawing for clouds with skinny hands. Shoulders low, hips slung slow. Fingers sprawled … Continue reading