Lenore Weiss

For several days, a dead insect had been on the windowsill. Maybe it kept trying to get outside, to fly free, frustrated because the pane would not budge until it

When I think about membranes, I think about permeability, movement from one place to another. Add sunshine with water to speed along carbon dioxide capture with a big sigh of

We leave tomorrow. I went to the gym today, Monday of Memorial Day weekend, Driving down High Street was an easy ride, all the lights were with me, over the

Flying at an altitude of 37,000 feet I watch sparkling sequins of cities headphones on listening to David Byrne who’s burning down the house in gray slacks and a buttoned-down

Monday of Memorial Day weekend, Driving down High Street was an easy ride, all the lights were with me, over the speed bumps installed recently, to what end I don’t

Something about my being in darkness, in deep quiet, translucent petals of magnolia trees on the pavement, rotating like a planet troubled by gravity shifting from one edge to the