being touch-starved or lonely makes me feel like a house cat discovering no one’s home. I’m rubbing my face along the bed sheets, following the sun’s slow crawl through the windows, curling up by the wall in time for the heater to kick on; keeping an ear out for the front door.

not horses by Natalie Shapero

elektra takes the stand • Nov 2025

Are You Coming? - Trina Teoh

Dramatic Porcelain Sculptures by Rebecca Manson Embrace the Beauty of Impermanence

Jenny Holzer, Plague Series from the Living Series, 1980-1982, bronze

[ID: IT'S AN EXTRAORDINARY FEELING WHEN PARTS OF YOUR BODY ARE TOUCHED FOR THE FIRST TIME. I'M THINKING OF THE SENSATIONS FROM SEX AND SURGERY. End ID.]

Clarice Lispector, from An Apprenticeship, or The Book of Pleasures (trans. Stefan Tobler) [ID'd]

The Next War by Ursula K. Le Guin

— Leah Horlick from “For Your Own Good” (via lunamonchtuna)

[ID: You'll never recover from that kind of devotion. End ID.]

father roger goes for a walk by Franz Wright

eight p.m. by Matthew Dickman

An excerpt from Shrine which is available here

[ID: I was a plain paper doll / and God was a little girl. End ID.]

MIRROR/SENTENCE LUIS CAMNITZER // 1966-68 [vacuum-formed polystyrene mounted on– synthetic board | 18 4/5 x 24 3/5 x 1/2”]

[ID: Black lettering in the style of an information sign, on white board. It reads: 'THIS IS A MIRROR / YOU ARE A WRITTEN SENTENCE'. End ID.]

I spent the past three months building a house with your voice in it. antique doily, colored pencils, gouache, beads.