Author: limestone-admin
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Greed Greed Greed
In Covington, I smell the honeysuckle smeared across the hills: impenetrable yellow mocking the warblers as they guzzle mealworms…
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Still Life With Dog In The Yard
The throat chaps from an easterly pumping harder now. A march of ants parade around the kettle in one straight line…
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Feeding Nagasaki
A garland of tako tentacles dangles under the canopy of Natsuo’s yatai…
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Praying to Unreliable Gods
Turn the door knob as if picking ripe figs. Spin the wrist and pull your harvest…
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A Visitation
Remember that she’s the most elemental of women—made from the oldest & purest of things—and has spent most of her life trapped beneath layers of sand, with no way to externalize her angst or express her suffocation.
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Walter Benjamin’s Flight through the Pyrenees Up to the Bluffs of Pure Language
In a drawer at the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris, Klee’s angel holds his clustered smile in place. His eyes slide sideways, though there’s nothing to see in the dark.
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Rite of Passage: Camus and the Turtle
The Navy pilot’s manual did not provide a strategy for this. It happened quickly. Despite that, it unfolds slowly in your mind as you lie paralyzed on your back in some sort of oily gray phlegm-sludge.
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93 Nola
The curtain is thin in New Orleans. The beyond closer, the dead nearer. You hear it in the wailing music, you see it in the grey mists off the river, you feel it in cold air radiating off sunbaked bricks.