Laura Hinton

Once there was a time, before this and before that, a time of metaphoric remembrances and repetitions, virtual rehearsals. “The rhythm of film like poetry” becomes the rhythm of poetry like film “to remain inside and outside at once.” Funny outrageous dark dreams are real, wherein a smaller point size of type determines infinitives. “Sisyphus died and came back that week,” back to the beaches of the Riviera, the old “New City,” where the radical “I” was an Orpheus who did not turn around but instead rhymes “bleak” and “chic.” —Norma Cole