Pandemonium
Harry Marc

All those sleep shapes, crystalline,
that you assumed
in the language shadow,

to those,
I lead my blood,

those image lines, them
I’m to harbor
in the slit-arteries
of my cognition—,

my grief, I can see,
is deserting to you.

Paul Celan, All Those Sleep Shapes
Carina Brandes - Sans Titre, 2009

Carina Brandes - Sans Titre, 2009

If we disassemble     
            the center.
If we wander back to where we arrived. If the ground is
a gallery of horsetails. If we bury our failures
            in the ground.
If we wait for them to bloom.
from “System of Rhetoric,” Kimberly Grey
Mike Ryczek

Mike Ryczek

Yasushi Okano

Yasushi Okano

Adriana Varejão

Adriana Varejão

Olivia Bee

Olivia Bee

It’s a strange grief… to die of nostalgia for something you never lived.
Alessandro Baricco, Silk