A Pitbull on a Fire Escape
December 24, 2008
Sometimes the world comes to me. Sometimes it goes away. Today, it's a pitbull on a fire escape; a flayed goat, eyes still in their sockets, hung from a silver hook in the butcher's window; the buzzing of a blue bottle as it enters the flytrap, its azure. Scribble "abundance" and the day will offer you one list. Scribble "elegy" and it will offer you another. In the stationers, I buy magnets and string, thinking of how ravel means the same thing as unravel, how cleave means both to sever and to cling.