Luisa Giugliano, p.4


She drove over the mountain pass without a break line
she had a wedding cake between her lap and the wheel
she couldn’t change the radio station from the “Commonplace Complex” channel.

I displayed your image on the base of my spine, considering the way things went.

I gave your description to the police, I filed my claims.

“Be honest and I’ll offer you food”, MC’s, entering discotecs with a prayer on their lips.

Please lord, let me find comfort, let me feel, witness and understand, let me persist.


There will always be a woman with a bigger brain, there will always be Hollywood, but brush this aside, focus.

Ignore her and tell the truth about the time you burnt down a nest with a candle, a plastic mask over a candle, a hand in an oven. Tell me why you burnt down the nest and why you covered your face (assuming I wouldn’t recognize your body because I so often look in your eyes).

Calm, brought under control with concert music and migraines.

Who listened to the audio book, Romance is the Public Space of Participation, who could not get inside of a mere act?