transliterations

Toccata Augustin-Louis Cauchy was born in Paris as the French Revolution began to stir. Politics would flavour the rest of his life as his strongly held views swung him in and out of favour with the succession of authorities who took over France in the wake of the revolution. One colleague went so far as to declare that Cauchy was "mad and there is nothing that can be done about him." Nonetheless, nobody denied his mathematical genius. Cauchy published more papers than any mathematician but Leonhard Euler, covering nearly every topic in mathematics and applied mathematics. Two of his most famous results are vector inequalities. Vectors can

Icarus— there is a rumour that your father killed you, that he bent your wings until they broke and then told you, "Fly." If this rumour is true, then it lives in the throats of those fragile boys who wear your death like Cain's mark, whose tender hands split like swollen tomatoes when they pluck strangled seabirds, whose arms slump beneath the weight of their father's genius. And this rumour lives on the under-skin of their eyelids so that when they die or simply sleep they dream of their fathers or maybe just of Daedalus, standing with his hands full of feathers and wax, their blood-flecked down under his fingernails

[she] golem You made me; I am dust spit-formed to clay, a rib excised by the alchemy of sex, and planted to sun-bake in the desert's kiln, grown fragile as glued fragments and skin whipped sandpaper-smooth in the storm. You paint me the colour of fire, and I burn mould me the shape of your lust, and I born from sand, have learned to bleed and fuck. Trapped in your oil-slick, I rise to breathe and you damn me.

Body mimics water motion-- laundry skin, white wash, sweat, your ribs are the hull of a ship and heave night-breath. Bones touch one another, unknowing of their existence and you're scared of the soundless swell in you. You're no pirate. Don't fight this.

En road: Il y a du frost outside sur les fields ou el moëbius sobre la historia de la humanidad ou 'ffeminyddiaeth'                   (I was feeling very lost                   very utterly defeated                   until this yesterday with the                   travel and the S

i. My shadow slips to silence among the aquatic acacias. Even here, leaves abound, draped over the fuzz-curves of his figure as he soaks up the moonlight. Papa's soft voice turns my gaze to the moon. Remember, Carlos, our shadows are but imprints of the moon. Remember the Eclipse. I shiver and hold onto an acacia branch. I'm careful not to let my shadow near the shoreline where sea meets sand. That's why acacias are aquatic; they drowned their fate with the sea, Papa says. We cannot, we must not let it be our shadow's fate. We are nothing without our shadows. And yet the tide sweeps towards my toes as the moon charioteers across the silver n

May 9th 2006 Dear Harry, You’re gone. People always told me death was a numbing experience, that I wouldn’t feel the pain for quite some time. It has already been three weeks, four days, and twenty-one hours, and they were wrong. I felt the loss of you that very second in the dreary hospital room. You were barely conscious, but Robert and I talked your way into a private room. Small, and unnaturally white, but I know you preferred the privacy over the bustle of the wards – cheery blue-gowned nurses, and the sickly aroma of flowers hurriedly purchased from the hospital shop by hoards of reluctant relatives. I didn

mountain woman, mountain woman, won't you come down to the river? where bears sing falsetto groans and wolves stripe their fur in cranberry; you are bare-footed climbing the grandfather trees, wild-bird paint in your eyes, prickles under your toenails, and thunder drowns in water below. raccoon-children with their mischief-hands sleep in your hair and crawl down your slate-rock nose; skeleton-men along your gorge beneath your upper lip where sirens would ride their horses along your jawline, and grey is your wisdom with empty caverns. mountain-man paws his gravels, sits against the lightning where war-husbands eagle themselves. yo