Tag: Winter 2018

After photographs by Francesca Woodman Head first from the bottom shelf, I spill out, sleep-tumbled, mirrored in the yellow eyes of a stuffed vixen. Here,

 girl with diagnosis or gun #10 this is where I always think it is | no | this is where it actually is I don’t

 As if you can’t lip read. Cut mute, & love— the mad season ended at the point I willingly put my lips around wood to

Us and every mammal on earth takes twenty seconds to piss. Imagine that, the great equalizer is between our legs (of course). It doesn’t matter

Self-Portrait as Jessica with Phoropter and Ursa Minor I. It was like following a map that line by line erased itself until one day it