Author: admin

(after Georges de La Tour’s “The Penitent Magdalen”) say she’s contemplating her own death, the fold of her plasticine hands, not sad, or overwhelmed but facing the flame with a steadfast spine, not her grave her heart has sent...

(after Yoshitomo Naro’s “Real One” ) words mean nothing mean everything when scissors come out into a young lady’s upraised hand slash away words fashion a world where they belong to her pull them back with a skull hair clip...

The podiatrist said, ” You have hammertoes.” As if one’s toes could hammer a nail into a wall Curved toes are like claws. They can grip anything. Perhaps I will climb the Empire State Building, like King Kong,...

It’s a ghost but, like Casper, not scary, not the kind that makes strange noises in the night or seeks revenge on its murderers. This ghost was not only holy, but one of the Big Three: Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. I think of the...

I hate getting dressed in the morning— the monotony of stretching the tighty-whities, socks, and then the shirt I’ve been growing over my body for a week, the black jeans I secretly worry are the only pants that fit; finally,...

–after Judy Chicago She divines her day from the thrum of her web, her life’s work, her abstract installation. Each silky shudder an iota of information as she strums and plucks across the galaxy by feel. A bite-sized...

Between her forefinger and thumb she holds all four delicate wings of the dragonfly. The insect faces the camera, each segment of its head discernible: the frons, the mandible, the labium. When the day is just above warm, the...

She’s on threesies when he asks again, What do you mean, divorce? This time she stops, her face as red as the little ball in her hand, different, she says, because she doesn’t know. Cart before the horse, she calls, picks up two...