The critics outside of criticism feel unscalable,
And he let down the rope ladder from the treehouse.
up and selected a cigar, posed to me in the humidor.
it as he spoke. What I mean to say is that
wowed by how starchy this pear has become.
you ask. The pear of literature, made stiff
who think they’re in the know. They’re wrong!
to go, he continued, picking apart a leaf, is
loose: to unbung the still hole in the world’s core.
The streets take him
out of waking. A lily
under weight of snow,
and in the newspapers cinematic
Grief’s evolution: we can’t
turn up anything, flying
apart from each other
as it demands, the key
jammed in the lock—one
A pyramid culminates in life