Two thousand nine is the centennial year of Malcolm Lowry, the British novelist and poet, whose extraordinary novel Under the Volcano appeared in 1947. Lowry’s first version of it was a loosely constructed story about Britons who witness a violent crime in Mexico.
If Clubber Lang just chilled out, he would’ve been in Rocky’s corner, too.
“Foresee this, I did not,” Yoda commiserated. But he knew what he had to do. He just didn’t know if he could do it.
People are always saying...
Marlon, breath puffing out in the cool morning air, says to no one that if the students cry, he will cry too. This isn’t a process you want to see again through new eyes.
Here come the ones who chose / the second option...
You would have believed on the screen was where my attention stayed.
Recently, I told my mother that I used to climb out of the bathroom window in the upstairs and crawl out onto the chimney ledge, where one slip of the ankle, knee, wrist, and I would have fallen three stories onto cement. Perhaps it began as another peace offering—I was trying to amuse her.
There was no way you could have a pair of Nikes and get clowned.
There was a yearning in me for her soft whiteness, which went powdery pink in her most private of places.
I want to be remembered like this: taut...
Under what circumstances do we find ourselves here?
Previously on...
Part 2 || Part 1 || Prologue
"with sky as ceiling, / ground as home, / we can call the stranger / lover / and the earth / ours / at least for a little while."
salat to define the terms of ritual
[adhan]
A calling, a culling, a billowing
minaret banner, a cigarette starter thrown
out a moving car window to prove a point.
I dreamed we were in a department store trying to buy you shoes.
This was months ago. April, maybe May. The weather was foggy. So was my brain. I saw you again in the Cubism section. I was standing in front of “The Actor” by Picasso. The second I saw you, I smiled
