March 2012
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“as for the suburbs, so sinister and forlorn—everyone i knew who had gone to live...”
– henry miller, plexus
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the strongest of the strange
you won’t see them often for wherever the crowd is they are not.
these odd ones, not many but from them come the few good paintings the few good symphonies the few good books and other works.
and from the best of the strange ones perhaps nothing.
they are their own paintings their own books their own music their own work.
sometimes i think i see them—say a certain old man sitting on a...
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February 2012
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like a swan coming to rest after a deep orgasm
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