More on: Hailey Leithauser

I am the whisper matches rattle in their cold and boxy hovels. I’m desire gone to ground. I am efficient, almost secret; you can read in me such scripture of the most compacted and contented red-light district. Impish sample seraph, humblest in lust, I am the apocryphalest rumor waiting just around the corner. See me…

Some small bone in your foot is longing for heaven                           —Robert Bly This twinge at first stir too modest for throb, more diffident than tug, not an itch, not the most incurious twitch of a hook, not a jerk, but the tease…