May 7, 2025
- Mothman, UFOs, and Gray Barker’s bizarre and fascinating writing
- On partying with nuns over Easter
- Dario Bellezza’s unabashedly queer poetry
- Close
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“It occurred to me that I’d become too comfortable with breaking and entering. Back from field training, I’d leapt onto the windowsill in a single bound, no awkward scrambling, as though onto a pommel horse, despite my combat boots and my Kevlar. I crouched, resting my hands lightly on the frame. My ponytail bobbed and then went still. In perfect balance, I could have carried a stack of books on my head, a debutante but for the stench of dirt and sweat.”
"When I tell my grandfather / I am writing about Jane, he says, / What will it be, a figment / of your imagination?"
“Christmas Day I found no package by the tree shaped anything like a guitar or even like a box for a guitar. And when my two brothers and I tore the wrappings off our identically shaped presents, we found we had each received identical gifts—cameras, Minolta XD5 35mm cameras, brand spanking new Minolta XD5 35mm cameras.”