Tag: Alexandra Grigorescu


Between now and December 31st, three pieces from our 2010 issue will run every Wednesday to Friday, starting with Lee Henderson’s short story Mold, and culminating with an excerpt from Sheila Heti’s How Should a Person Be?

It’s Saturday, Kyle thought, opening one eye to the bright sunlight. He slept on his front, his covers gathered…


it’s monday and a sallow-bearded man with a cigar
imbedded and shivering in the hairs,
tugs down the waistband of his boxers to show me his tattoo:
me ves y sufres, look away, and neither of us does.
he sizes me up, bird bones, chickenshit and dancer’s thighs,
grunts smoke and sandalwood incense.
the arjan,…

Summer ’89

was gravel clotting in my eyes,
and dry heat fusing dust to lashes.
sam straddling the scaffolding, wielding a spade,
and calling out to ‘candyass faggots’
and little ‘b-minus’ schoolgirls
good-natured and self-conscious
about a harelip, full belly, or a birthmark rising
up thighs like lichen.

looking around, looking up from
mixing paints and flinging…


those few days in mexico,
i had tar pits for eyes — sunken, sooty —
and your parched lips were miller moths
circling the darkness.
our bedroom smelled of fingerpaintings,
tangy with fresh veneer and faintly
of stale, stalled sex.
i woke with daylight and left you naked,
sleeping, without goodbyes.
to wander out…


in bucharest, the history does nothing to mute the cobblestone streets,
the hoarse screech of gypsy women trailing chains and cloth and
silk scarves speckled with gold threads.
without western distractions, old men devote themselves
to carpentry.
they compose gardens and tread them daily,
despite deep aches and clots congealing,
then thinning with each…


for years, you smoked camels,
until your lungs were harmonicas wheezing,
sharp whistles that tugged you from sleep
the way thunder startles children.
but dark growths were settling deep and sprouting,
tumors like peach pits taking root.

nests of your hair floated in warm bathwater like
algae photosynthesizing quietly beneath the surf
and i fished…