The Medicinal Cotton Clouds Come Down to Cover Them by Mary Jo Bang
Reading love letters addressed to me. The Medicinal Cotton Clouds Come Down to Cover Them Mary Jo Bang To smother their smallness in felt. Unsatisfied folds, filmic emotion — remote, pale and impalpable. Each with their own secret inflection of want. There was no debate on this but
The Wake Was a Line and We Watched by Mary Jo Bang
I am supposed to be working. But here I am reading poems at one in the morning, listening to Edith Piaf's La Foule on repeat. Tonight my heart is as big as the Olympia, and a little sparrow is singing