We seek out poetry because we seek in this completely subjective form some kernel of beauty and truth. And so for me, friendship is poetic, and it is lyric, because it does that, and it is mysterious why when a friend mirrors to you what they think you are – it works.
Pain Log #2: Letter to My Sister I listen to Arvo Pärt’s sacred music and think of his native Estonia, which reminds me of that Tallinn lawyer and historian whom I met one November at the American Academy in Rome. She wore an outlandish costume
“We readers are watching Gay watching a video clip as he curates a personal museum exhibit that is part memoir and part historical monument.”
“The day he died the sky was as clear as a good gemstone.”
When I imagine it, I first picture the twisted fence, her body warping wire, lava nails pushing her face so deep into metal a cheek pressed through a pentagon. And I assume she was wearing one of her two outfits. But before I get into