Takashi dressed in long black rags, ripped fishnet stockings, and big black boots with long loose laces that splatted at the. . .
stories
I’m walking up
Bolshaya Dmitrovka,
what is now Pushkinskaya—
walking up from the station
at Okhotny Ryad—
poems
Jemima jawing at me in the dark,
the box of mix thumping and jumping
on the table in tune to her swiveling hips,
setting my. . .
poems