Midsummer Zero
There is not not anything true here; there is not no thought whose single attention might burn as the day burns, holding in flame and in fury to longing, or stuck to the nub of some one refusal, some stubborn remainder of thought.
There is not not anything true here; there is not no thought whose single attention might burn as the day burns, holding in flame and in fury to longing, or stuck to the nub of some one refusal, some stubborn remainder of thought.
Welcome to the opening of the Tank, into which we drop a published work or a work-in-progress (or some piece of one or the other) and see what happens when the water starts churning. In our first installment, Oren Izenberg steps into the water.