Being nosy is, in fact, advantageous.
Reviews • Essays • Excerpts • Interviews • Fiction & Poetry • Print
His experiment must at least incidentally have demonstrated the relative significance of story to him.
There seems to be not much of a point, or perhaps the point is that the point is not the point.
It's like the whole intellectual coating of the past midcentury is sloughing off at once, the last scarred remnants of a flayed skin.
If you can't be rooted to the land, you might as well be rooted to each other.
His speech thrills with all the pleasures of the horror tale.
my future seemed to spring forward from my mind without consent / i ducked, thinking i could tear range into the plan
Would you still love me if I had a brass nose? What if I were intractable? What if I were as old as the Sibyll? Beauty isn’t everything. I cannot recall the face of Bach.
These are games where understanding of the world—both its fiction and mechanical form—are, ultimately, the point. And importantly, they’re treated by developers with near equal weight, internally consistent. You don’t “beat” these games.
I will bend my articulable joints; I will bend my slender neck and set myself to the task of deciphering hermetic secrets scratched on tattered onionskin.
By being private it may be wildly public. How do you find yourself navigating these questions of audience, who a book is for, what its public role is, once it’s off the desk and out in the world?
In the moonlight, I thought I could read the lines around your smile, but I would not know the right thing—not then—and so there we were, with no one telling us how to begin, nor how to comply.
I’d meant to write about the blood
spurting from his neck. But then
there will be more of those the less.
I took them, these placebo pills, because they allowed me to assert control over my impulses. I had once been a woman domineered by primitive and animalistic impulses, with too many opinions and too much attitude.
I wonder why I am up at such a bleak hour of the morning to watch two men hurt each other.
For real you can trust me in a country that can only
be explained by computers who’ll hallucinate






