The stallion pounded the ground with its hooves in a wild gallop, its horsewoman leaning over its neck. With no saddle or bit, the mount flew free, its mane in the wind.
Nighttime enveloped the
...
[+]
again at Selby Jr.
in my comfortable
apartment
with a balcony
in the Dublin
northside. Last Exit
doesn't work now
and neither does
Requiem. I first
came across them
in elbowish rooms
in Toronto and the north
end of London. something
of the copper
of bones here,
I thought. something
of life—a toilet
by the stove
and four feet
from the bedclothes. and art
needs discomfort
to appreciate
properly. Selby
doesn't function
when the water
heater does.