Sight & Sound ((I.) March)
The cadaver dogs downstairs are barking. As though making a sound will fix anything—any of this—I tell me, reflected in glass— Curdling a self into an imagined resuscitation of some politics is a joke not worth telling for no one to laugh at. Enter cadaver dog. Outside, the magnolias bloom their white petals pristine cups, … Sight & Sound ((I.) March)