By Kevin Killian
Kylie Minogue, greater than muse, is okay. K.'s aesthetic m.o., his ammo. round her identify and photograph, he circulates the debris of his personal uncanny idiom, that's not like something in modern American poetry. Killian works each tool within the band; he sneaks up at the back of which means, and makes it sing. one way or the other, in the course of defamiliarization, Killian's voice continues to be companionable and comforting. motion Kylie is a e-book i'm going to flip to while i need to recollect that literature can regenerate authenticity in addition to renege it. Killian performs with a number of rhetorics and codes, all within the pursuit of his personal tuition of motion Poetry, within which I want quick to sign up. --Wayne Koestenbaum
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My mother would be furious if I questioned her sanity; I knew that counseling was not an option for her. Sometimes I burst into tears when I got off the phone with my mother. Feeling a little sorry for myself made me feel a lot better. But, after this call, I worked for four straight hours on a piece for Breathe. The phone rang repeatedly as I tweaked the article, but I ignored it. When Armando woke up, I decided he should return some phone calls for a change. “I no know what I mus ask,” Armando pleaded.
What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Finally, Delilah got back to me. She was still interested. I checked her references, and by the end of the week told her she could move in the first weekend of the month. “Kelly no call,” Armando said. ” “Porca butane,” he cursed, or so I thought. He would get over it, I was sure, and I would have what I hoped would be an unobtrusive pet-free roommate who would not sleep with him and who would stay for a long, long time. I relayed the whole saga to Jamie over veggie burgers at Trailer Park, another one of our midway meeting spots.
She didn’t say that boys in the cast were allowed to sleep over too. We all camped out in the backyard. What Jamie’s mother might not have approved of, but probably sort of suspected, was all the alcoholic concoctions that I drank. I only remember pieces of the night. I remember giggling in the double sleeping bag I shared with Jamie. I was daring her to call Leon over to us, and she did. She urged him to climb in and told him that we both wanted to kiss him. We put him in between us and laughed and laughed.