Oil and Karras
There, on Allston Street in Cambridge, spotlit by streetlights, I consider cobblestones peeking through a broken […]
1991
Vestibuled, my feet leave prints in pewter-toned dust— cindered ash and scratchcard foils— my nostrils sense
College Was A Pyrrhic Victory
The first man I killed was myself, deskbound, hunched above translated lines of
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Thoughts On Modern Cinema
Seventeen years ago, I happened upon a scene in which a young woman had jumped 135
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The Moricide Machine
“So, tell me, why do you want to live?” Ro posed this seemingly important question to
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