MAGRITTE’S GOLCONDA AS TREATISE ON POST-TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER I Another kingdom in ruin that doesn’t know it yet. No rustle of coattails. No echo of footsteps. No murmurs, no car horns, no breeze—only the sweet scent of Brylcreem and a
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Ghost forward through secret garden tunesto St. John’s Priory. She plays black abbey ribs back alley, she worships electric chessand smacks hard his jukebox. On weekend nights Queen Jane sniffs glue/beneath her bed with Rougarou. She learned to reed, learned
5 Stunts
Stunts sometimes called tricks, roughhouse beneath or within, like the thump of furnaces or blood. Stunts are essential, life without them a mere withered jerky. Stunts can be seen only in the acts they inhabit, often the deceptively plain and
Wolf-Jane
When the blood came she should have stopped slinking through midnight air, but fur spread across limbs. She dripped nightly in abandoned strip malls. Her tail swatted mosquitoes past blue-glow gas stations and Andouille shops. Beneath the pier she chewed
Heathered Hills Beckon Sister Ghosts
another year to carve in the treewood grains are like wheat grains are like flesh grainsare identical to any seed, pod, or pupil if your laughter had a monthit would be November, the sudden windcan knock one over : cause
The Fourth of July
The dog was an eight-year-old miniature poodle with a bad hip. It had just gotten a summer haircut and it clambered about that apartment, around the couch and on the bed like some tiny idiot sheep. She looked at it