OUR IMAGES ARE LINKS / A WORK IN PROGRESS /
AND THE SOUND IS NOT MEANT TO BEGIN SO EARLY (UNPROVOKED), {our apologies}

 

ALL THE KING’S HORSES AND ALL THE KING’S MEN / COULDN’T PUT BABY TOGETHER AGAIN / ALL THE KING’S HORSES AND ALL THE KING’S MEN / COULDN’T PUT BABY TOGETHER AGAIN, Aimee Mann

YESTERDAY, A MAN / IN THE CITY WAS RESCUED FROM HIS APARTMENT / THAT WAS FILLED WITH A THOUSAND RATS. / SOMETHING ABOUT BEING ANGRY BECAUSE / HIS PET PYTHON REFUSED TO EAT. HE LET THE BLOOM / OF FUR RISE, RISE OVER THE LITTLE GNARLY BLUE RUG, / OVER THE COFFEE TABLE, THE KITCHEN COUNTERTOPS / AND PIP THROUGH EACH CABINET, SNIP / AT THE STUMPY PAPER BAGS OF SUGAR, / THE CYLINDERS OF SALT, Aimee Nezhukumatathil

JUGS OF WATER SPLASHING INTO SHALLOW CLAY BOWLS. THE PERSISTENT, STEADY CHORUS OF MOANING AND WHIMPERING FROM THE OTHER GIRLS, Aimee Phan

YOU NEVER TOLD HER THAT YOU STARTED WRITING EVERYTHING IN GARAMOND, WHICH YOU LEARNED WAS NOT A COLOR BUT A FONT. A SHAPE OF LINES AND CURVES. YOU NEVER TOLD HER THAT YOU STARTED TO FORGET ALL ABOUT HER RED, RED LIPS AND INSTEAD, DAYDREAMED ABOUT GARAMOND, NAMED AFTER A FRENCHMAN. SPENT YOUR PAYCHECKS ON INK FOR YOUR PRINTER TO PRONOUNCE GARAMOND’S FIGURE. YOU BECAME MONOGAMOUS WITH THIS FONT, UNABLE TO NOTICE BEAUTY OUTSIDE OF ITS LETTERS AND PUNCTUATION, Aimee Herman

“THIS IS THE GATE BETWEEN THE LIVING AND THE DEAD”, [i] SAID. “YOU ARE STILL LIVING. THE OTHERS ON THE GROUNDS DIED VERY LONG TIME AGO.” // A CHILL RAN THROUGH ME. “AND YOU?” // “ME?” THE CORNER OF [my] MOUTH TWITCHED. “I RULE THE DEAD. I AM NOT ONE OF THEM,” Aimée Carter