I met Michel Houellebecq in a Frankfurt hotel surrounded by strip bars and nightclubs. After I talked to Michel’s wife, my assistant and me were invited to his hotel room.
The thing about new blooms is that they tend to bleed— / Those petals birthed / hugging close / that come warmer weather are tricked into jumping away...
I spent a good part of my childhood at home staring outside my bedroom window, following the trail of planes approaching the nearby Paris airport in the sky from my banlieue. I envied the passengers...