i am reminded to please wait through the silence, to check my work pants at the door, but it’s raining tiny czarists over in
No past tense permitted —Kay Boyle, “A Poem for Samuel Beckett” Darlings, this may be the only great escape we’ll ever make: go forward
… you are back to where you are, utterly. —Max Frisch A basement bar is closing up— people climbing the steps into streetlight pink.