Plain Honey is a hive buzzing with essays, stories, and discussions. ____________ Click on each comb, About and Pollinators to find your way around.

“O You,
Who came upon me once
Stretched under apple-trees just after bathing,
Why did you not strangle me before speaking
Rather than fill me
with the wild white honey of your words
And then leave me to the mercy
Of the forest bees.”

—

Amy Lowell, “Carrefour”

People always try to fall asleep when a story starts, and I am not any different. I don’t think details such as “the middle of the week” and “the middle of the day” repudiate my being so much like everyone else—I was simply not ready from the moment I digested breakfast to do anything other than lay down and try to dissolve myself between the sheets, the mattress, and a few images I’d’ve sold off in a few mid-grade novels if just to get them “away from here”. I say story and what I mean is time, or whatever bakes us together into specific

This is probably one of Koons’ minor works at his new solo show at the Gagosian. I don’t know what it is called: “Flower Power”? I always tell people Koons is my favorite artist and it makes them upset. Recently, I tried to defend myself and say that he “always erects something that has an irrefutable presence, and it always makes me chuckle.” And she said, “I think the erection is the problem here.”

Speech in time, hailing from a future unknown. Heading through a past too known, or most too barely unknown as to be any consolation. No sweet souls here, thank you very much; they are always the first to get eaten. Not that my soul was eaten, mind you, after all I am writing this prose in a somewhat hopeful note of regret, or a symphony of melancholic celebration. Everybody loves a party, everybody. Here’s a rule with no exceptions, which makes it into a law; Law assuch really. And that’s precisely why I find it so depressing.

Coup de Grâce (to deserve a lover)

 

You cannot cling to

consolations they

decay

like a safe deposit box whose code turns out

to be the burglar’s birthday (any

burglar’s birthday).

Now only the banality of disabuse is sudden —

I wanted to share some pictures from a recent trip to India. I tried my best to categorize them, though they tend to overlap at times.

Brought to you by Lululemon.

Amemory

After the laundry, after

several showers,

After the malevolent decree of memory performed its painful trace