Daniel Brown

To really hear what I’m about to sayIs probably impossible apartFrom taking in the painting at its heart.From reeling, in the process, at the wayThe blood, beyond its trickling down his brow,Has gotten in his vitreum somehow. How otherwise explain the ruinousRed of his eyes? If that isn’t the . . . . Continue Reading »

Its marble floor includes a graven granite slab: Monteverdi’s. I mention this not to tell you he’s gone” already old news when Bach was still a gleam in the eye of God” but to tell you whose stone roses are scattered on: as though the loss were fresh as yesterday. . . . . Continue Reading »