words & images
Anvil
I had been chasing him through the desert. I think it was around noon. Lunch time. When had I eaten last? I can't remember. It seems all I have ever known was the pang of hunger and the drip of my saliva onto the dry road beneath my
A Beginner's Guide to (dead) Birding
It is 5:30 am and I am holding a dead ovenbird in my hand. I stand on a sidewalk that has just been washed by the workers who come out before the sun, clearing business facades of the trash and shit and death that accumulates there at night. No
Love and the Deathless: A Phenomenology of Anxiety
1. While in the grips of anxiety, it often feels as though my body would decompose into a sweltering swarm of electric eels. Walking down the street, they would slink off me as would slime off cold marble, only to reemerge from within my body out of my orifices once