there is inside my house a flightof rooms removed by halfan inch in a directionthat I can’t quite nameoff a little at an anglelike in the drawing of a childbut how to get there seemsimpossible to figure out. I sometimes feel the wallsand listen. I wonder ifthere’s something hiddenin those rooms. A cornerwhere the puppeteers…
Author: Matt Riker
Commerce
I was caught in the loops of a dream, walking through streets where paint flaked off the walls and buildings crumbledwith the memory of long monsoons. I entered a crowded bazaar. In my hands I held a shapeless parcel, battered,wrapped in dirty cloth. I could readLOVE on it in many languages. Each time carefully crossed…