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Tag Archives: Eric Stiefel
Before I had a body I had nothing— I lean back and make a list of everything that’s ever been so I can decide which parts I’d like to eat: I swallow birds, bees, blues, petals, seeds, and sometimes whispers … Continue reading
I’m looking up at the ceiling of the Hungarian State Opera House, pondering the merits of non-existence. It’s difficult to say what the body would do after this unbearable afternoon, beholden, not unlike the head of a gorgon. Having been … Continue reading
If we didn’t know the words for, say, a body uncoiling the way a bouquet of herbs might after being untied inside a pair of hands before you or the scent of lavender lingering in your hair from a night spent lost … Continue reading
I’d gone missing from myself, is what I meant to say. Or meant to believe. Before I got distracted thinking how different everything looks when it’s covered in snow. A train drives by the cabin where I’m staying—a cloud of … Continue reading