RHYTHM IS THE INSTRUMENT

The sun  must be a very  cruel and narcissistic man  to be  so beautiful, so needed— and to know it—but,  under pain  of blindness, still  p...

If I could, I would go back there to kiss the creases  and clefts of your injuries— tell you  I'm sorry  you were disallowed  to put you...

Because motion  and parallax  are confusing   to the senses— the omnipotent synthesis  of centripetal gravity must couple  with inertia'...

It's good  for the conscience  to admit  you'd been wrong— edifying  to allow, for instance,  that  spring  should have been called ...

Sotto voce missive  from the little distant  tackhammering woodpeckers:  often, you must drill  before the reason  will appear;  it takes p...

By the way the sun  after 4pm  starts to shamble  through your window  like some slack Byronic hero  and ooze through the green glass  bottl...

Perversely, the wrongest  thing of them all  is the reassuring tedium  of grief's routine; the TV procedural  of nullifying feeling— not...