LATEST ARTICLES

Awakening in Poesy Town This morning I rose from my bed, as if from between the sheets of the New Yorker, the world random as free...
Pas de Deux   In our choreography, Dad and I had three types of dance: the shower, the stairs, and the car. The shower’s dance was a slow...
As if England and Nature were the same, At Williamsburg we imitate by culling Tricorn and lace—it’s Restoration Game! And out we strut, colonialling, Having to mincestep...
If John Waters Hung Out in Reston He’d live in our townhouse, with the filthiest bathroom alive— a rust hole in the sink so big...
Minute shards of glass settle upon the bar counter like finely milled powder The barkeep smiles at no one in particular as if born an automaton No warmth...