Criticism. Essay. Fiction. Science. Weather.
What the fuck. I remember thinking as we unveiled the head of our
cadaver, two months into medical school. When was the last dead head
you've seen? The first? Mine was June 14, the day after my brother
killed himself. That day I saw him draped in a sheet. A simple peek
underneath took his death deeper. Yeah. I don't imagine ever finding the depth of that one.
Or, rather,
I miss you Don and am so hurt even to make art seems full of something terrible.