3

Matt Donovan, from "Fumbling with a Field Guide on the Back Arroyo Trail"

I once found a deer collapsed near a lake — sleek,
immaculate, & unmoving except for its antlers, which swarmed
with orange-&-black-speckled butterflies that obliterated
the velvet beneath. Whatever word explains this,
I don’t want to know it yet.

Lily in the Backseat

Hey Ma

Varsity

Nadia the Beautiful

Another Season

Caterpillar

Joanna

work in progress, mask series

picturebooks

Herbert Bayer, Design for a cinema

Motherland

Housepainting

Nick Flynn

Emptying Town

-- after Provincetown

Each fall this town empties, leaving me
drained, standing on the dock, waving bye-
bye, the white handkerchief
stuck in my throat. You know the way Jesus

rips open his shirt
to show us his heart, all flaming & thorny,
the way he points to it. I'm afraid
the way I miss you

will be this obvious. I have

a friend who everyone warns me
is dangerous, he hides
bloody images of Jesus around my house

for me to find when I come home -- Jesus
behind the cupboard door, Jesus tucked

into the mirror. He wants to save me
but we disagree from what. My version of hell
is someone ripping open his
shirt & saying,

Look what I did for you.

Alice Coltrane, Going Home

☼☼☼

John Berryman, Dream Song 29

There sat down, once, a thing on Henry's heart
so heavy, if he had a hundred years
& more, & weeping, sleepless, in all them time
Henry could not make good.
Starts again always in Henry's ears
the little cough somewhere, an odour, a chime.

And there is another thing he has in mind
like a grave Sienese face a thousand years
would fail to blur the still profiled reproach of. Ghastly,
with open eyes, he attends, blind.
All the bells say: too late. This is not for tears;
thinking.

But never did Henry, as he thought he did,
end anyone and hacks her body up
and hide the pieces, where they may be found.
He knows: he went over everyone, & nobody's missing.
Often he reckons, in the dawn, them up.
Nobody is ever missing.

Before Impound

More from A. Kanevsky

Aquatint etchings. Too incredible. Better when bigger.

Alex Kanevsky

say hey, kid

David and Devra

Still a Sucker For It

John Donne, Holy Sonnet XIV

Batter my heart, three-person'd God ; for you
As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy ;
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

Chicago Trip: Banh Mi Before, During, and After

Chicago Trip: Bloomingdale Trail

Check it out!

Chicago Trip: Cuties Around the House

The Dance

New Stuff for Nad

Advent

I want to say "the end
of days." Like the shut

door is enough to talk about. Like
your mouth made no sound

when it opened. Like we push
old salt to the back of the cupboard

to make room for new salt. The end
of days, or the slow sweat

those days brought. Last night
I set a bowl of milk on the porch

of your old house, where you or anybody
might step in it by accident. Come back.

Leo's Kite