missing light

drown your thought out at sea and dip your hands in the water the same deep water as mezweifellos mondbetont, 2014


drown your thought out at sea
and dip your hands in the water
the same deep water as me

zweifellos mondbetont, 2014


We spend the day popping reds and drinking

cups of black coffee mixed with Bénédictine

I have severe sexual dysfunctions that amuse her to no end

Like me, she is filled with anger and lacking the skills

to navigate one day to the next without chaos

The idea of giving someone a tattoo as a prank

or for revenge seemed like a hilarious plan

It almost ceased being comedy, but you couldn’t stop watching

Nothing is more painful or confusing

than when your brain takes over your thoughts




Hayden Zezula
Before the Wind

If I’m to happen upon the hill
where cherries grow wild
it better be soon, or the yellow-
eyed birds will come squabbling,

claiming the fruit for their own.
Wild means stones barely
clothed in flesh, but that’s rich
coming from me. A mouth

contains a cherry, a cherry
a stone, a stone
the flowering branch
I must find before the wind

scatters all trace of its blossom,
and the fruit comes, and yellow-eyed birds.

—Kathleen Jamie


“On such sunny, sad mornings I always feel in my bones that there is a chance yet of my not being excluded from Heaven, and that salvation may be granted to me despite the frozen mud and horror in my heart.”

— Vladimir Nabokov, Pale Fire

Schroedinger’s Cat and the Last Eclipse of the Millenium

The one who begins this poem won’t be the same
As the one who will end it. Already
Fifteen minutes have passed since I wrote those lines.
I take my shirt off. The day is getting warm.

Yesterday I learned two words: Geheim, which is German
For secret. Temem, which is Arabic

For plenitude. In a few hours a hundred million people
Who do not speak the same language

Will gaze at the last eclipse of the millennium. Bonheur,
what a beautiful word when formed by the mouth

Of a French Buddhist. Didn’t I tell you words
Should be emptied like a vessel, didn’t I tell you I loved

Schroedinger’s cat. Kept for days in a closed box
The cat can either live or die, but until we look

It is neither dead nor alive. Next question. Ask me what light
Feels like, at the instant when it falls. The one

Who ends this poem is not the same as the one
Who will stand accused and be forced to deny it.

Can sorrow be weighed in gravitons? Is fear genetic?
Does the soul know it exists? Does it echolocate its way

In this world, looking for an exit? The inferno that we form
by being together. — Calvino. I use these words

To keep from looking away, ensorcelled by the radiantly
Mortal, but with zero yearning. X = wonder,

Vivid under the spell’s recurring question: Peut-on
Naitre-mourir? Lust kills joy

Instantly: half glass fully empty. Diamond cusp,
Be beautiful, brief, and blinding.”

Eric Gamalinda | Schroedinger’s Cat and the Last Eclipse of the Millenium (via swingingaxes)

Arnold Genthe • Marguerite Churchill’s hands


Arnold Genthe • Marguerite Churchill’s hands


Dirk Braeckman, selected works

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