No Matter What

Spaniels swim. Spooked geese fly. The river flows. Under the full moon’s eye, the river flows. Love breaks down like rotting fruit. The Mountain Goats sing, I hope you die. The river flows, yellow with chemicals. On its bank, kids play. My daughter asks why the river flows. Dreams offer reversals—the air clean, Mom alive. […]

Henri Rousseau’s The Dream

The naked woman’s pointing, but toward what? Does she covet an otherworldly flower, larger than her head, and is telling the round-eyed, pettable-looking lioness to fetch? Serenely, a dark figure in a striped skirt plays a tune. Some kind of orange fruit hangs, round as moons. No one asks who moved a couch into the […]