Lamp
Standing table
Desk
Hamper
Chair

Lotus root
Wood ear
Cauliflower
Bok choy
Potato 

Brecht
Rexroth
Akhmatova
Enzensberger
Baraka 

Gold chain in a false thumb.
Skeuomorphic boat shoes.
Disproved miracles in a foundation pit.

“the pack-ice of logic”
“the smell of tar”
the third man
aristotle’s objection to the forms

illustration exercises for the uninspired 
the space between the orchestra in its entirety 
composed of single violins of trombones of drums violoncellos and flutes, of trumpets more or less insignificant violins, and an entire choir with alti bassi and everything in between

And an unquenchable, trading card collector desire for completism, an irregular hierarchy of attentions, which fails to follow the typical moral ladder from atmosphere to body to face, animals consistently outshining humans and gods in their vivacity, and the way his brush obsesses over floral patterns on cloth, on Buddhist temple flourishes, and Gargoyles, all, always, at the expense of his flat, inhuman faces
His sublime autism.

The preteen boy
behind his mother
on the Metro
at day’s end.

She supports her head with her hand, elbow against the wall. The back of her neck exposed. She wears a black hoodie with angel wings bejeweled on the back.

Sir Ernest Shackleton, in his 1919 book South, described his belief that an incorporeal companion joined him and his men during the final leg of their Antarctic journey. Shackleton wrote, “During that long and racking march of thirty-six hours over the unnamed mountains and glaciers of South Georgia, it seemed to me often that we were four, not three.”

We made progress last year but that’s no “constellation” to someone who has lost a loved one

I dreamed that I threw a bottle of gasoline at officers of the Myanmar military who were confined to the room next to mine.
The room burned, and I could smell the flames.
When it was all over, Tyler learned what I had done. I felt deeply ashamed. And that felt good. 

Consciousness is episodic
I can’t pretend to the clairvoyance of children….

This put me in a terrible mood, for three reasons I can identify: 1. You were right and I was wrong.