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i have been preoccupied recently with measuring the size of all things. for example, my mother’s smile, how the edges of it flutter on the surface of the moon during a spotless night and simultaneously on the bright stage i have walked across during graduation. it is a fascination, a careful, educated observation that all … Continue reading
i am sat down slapped on the back fed beer after beer firmly told that i am a catch there are many women here i am told to look around my belly lurches it is all coming up kacper you will be fine you are fine it is all coming out i return from the … Continue reading
Dear dear, I have described your eyes, but have I seen their sight? Have I watched them watch, held what they’ve held? Once, yes. We were biking to the Montreal waters, to be soaked by the sun. A train was passing. Giant curves of fibreglass and metal from a windmill yet to be constructed trailed … Continue reading
Dear dear, Most of these letters are composed in the dark, one that is singular and shared between us. It smells of you, of a great, blistering absence. It whispers to me what it was to feel your femur in Montreal midnight and how the morning fumbled with your scapula today. The unicelled organism of … Continue reading
Dear dear, In nine months, I am happy to be the first to present to you a healthy, though squawking birth, a weird congratulation for the act of insemination of a thing that is meant to be more than a thing, a failed bird, a busted egg, an omelet if the bird-part sticks faster than … Continue reading
Dear dear, The rain is long and the night is short and I am somewhere in between missing you and remembering you and telling myself that one should never start with rain, especially when we began with a sleek, soaked summer at a bar where the drinks were overpriced and there were far too many … Continue reading
dear dear, the art of art is self-described. i’ve often grumbled this when criticism came around. people could describe anything, feel everything, and yet none of the interpretations mattered for all of them did. art was, i felt, contained in its own corpse and left to die through the living lost. i tend to still … Continue reading
the sky is made of a deep lavender and swirls of separated light and tonight i listened to the music we did, danced to the coffee and uncatena, watched as sylvan esso brought me back. i had a date with me during the debacle. it went horribly, resembling more booger than boogie. she left mad … Continue reading
and suddenly, you’re 32, and you don’t recognize where you are, and you have been to many places, and you think there are still more to go to, and maybe you are overcome by greed and selfishness and a home that is not your home but that has halls that are filled with all the … Continue reading
Dear dear, I read once from a great philosopher that at some point, all things become predictable. I believed he predictably said that, being great and all. I predictably continued on with the book afterwards, being grated and all he was not. And now, I predictably do the same here, writing to you about what … Continue reading
Mizpellt wurdz 