106 9 36min
it is growing late and the very tendered lights of these streets ghost their way over the slow-paced figures around, which alley we've found ourselves ...
89 7 26min
songs for the wildness that bursts from too-long solitary.
3 0 30min
Miss Colette, her eyes to the street; 'demoiselle ruined amidst the poets & thieves; a live lived in utter brevity; and France will never dream again.
212 14 41min
It is bone-cold here, and there is no warmth in old words/ heavy against the waves/ beat the sides of the dirge.
47 5 31min
Songs for Francesca Woodman (1958-1981) (photograph by Francesca Woodman).
156 8 51min
there was a night in the south of France with wine & bruised-black sky & drifting to sleep under open-sky attic windows- (August 2014) .
209 16 1hr 0min
(our blindest words in the dismal air and the moon upon each object in the room).