—after Wangechi Mutu HOW TO STAB ONESELF IN THE BACK In a recurring dream, I knock over the musician’s instrument and blame his kittens. He burns their mother’s milk as punishment, forbids them from the balcony. There is sadness … Read More
our most tender overtures toward each other have turned against us, targeted us for shortness of breath and breadth of lifespan. When I tell you it’s dead outside, I mean people are dying outside—zipped in plastic bags and set … Read More
hellish bullshit . . . men love it men stupid as cows, pigs —Ikkyu, tr. Stephen Berg After telling each other some awful stuff, the three of us were poking along Houghton Street. Then, wow, there were grapes and … Read More
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