After “Monarch Buffalo Horn Cup,” a sculpture by Kevin Pourier Why this object returns to me as I (changed, now, into an ill-fitting pale
What does it matter if you have not visited your life in so long? Go to it now. You have lain, too long, in
The weight and heft of it, this rough unyielding thing. Maybe it drips tar-like from your fingers, a thick hot shame of words you