Selections from Brooklyn Museum Poems 7Waiting at the door to theGreat Hall Connecting Cultureswaiting for mind to clearwaiting for the winds to die downwaiting for changean intuitive pushto a surer...
The Way the Data CrumblesThere was never an algorithmic sex act. That wasn’t a real breast that flashed like Magritte’s pipe on your tongue. There is no smell of menstrual...