[un]stat[ic]ues seek out their clues.
they see him, and they stare. the mighty among them look on and despair. how many shocks will one sunrise bring? but such is the way of the desert’s first king. for Sphynx is a lion beneath the man-mask, and this answers…
Lady Liberty let down her hair first thing after setting down torch and book. her crown she cradled for a moment, then let fall without a second look. she slipped from her robe and, skyclad and sun-kissed, she dove into the sea…
“he’s been sitting since 6:46am,” they say on the news that night. “a moment ago he spoke, to say ‘please—turn off the lights.’ of course the officials complied . . . “ they go on, repeat how the polÃcia tentatively tried (and…
he [d]re[a]members the rain. it greens the dunes before him into reed and grass and grain. he listens to its patter[n] on the leaves, feels rivulets t[r]ickle his sides. a lake—not so long distant—glistens moonlit; ripples roll and glide. the breeze is…