For Iuliia Hoban So muchdepends upona chestnut treeblooming in Kyivdefying sirensrefusing sheltersdripping its white glazeof integrityspattered......

from the car Laophonte Mother damned swaneach evidentin the stretch of tarsalsfeathering forwardlike summer overwheat and......

Wrenched from sleepin sweat-stained sheets,hair unspooling a messof ribboned dreams— how cliché to writeof restless nights,heart......

I am cheekbones lit in his eyes,dappled dark hair descendingtowards soft dip of my breasts.In the......

Sad like blinking traffic lightsat dusk staring at a November crossing like the dotted grin of......

Why do I love the work of László Krasznahorkai? Because he challenges every part of my......