hands at death,

or with it,

falling in or

out of love

like a nervous

bird, dogged across the

great cities of the world

or slipped into

the moldering delis of

Manhattan. Epileptic

and panting

looking on

stuck to analyst

chairs with flypaper 

slipping the dour

notes of Freud

into their coffee

crying “the Universe

is Expanding!”

Image via Reddit

Do you enjoy reading the Nass?

Please consider donating a small amount to help support independent journalism at Princeton and whitelist our site.