Letter 062524 the rabbit’s dream of knowing magic
Dear Ethan Hawke
I am reading Vanessa Angélica Villarreal’s Magical/Realism and its propulsively engaged agonizing has such weight that one can hear lights pop distantly above its interrogated verse. Have you ever reappeared in front of a child who then puts bread in your hand? I eat like a ghost in fast food parking lots. I think of my father’s partner who was deported too many years ago. I drive like my mother. I can’t be elsewhere. My two older sons carry my youngest son everywhere. They place him across his mother’s legs which have both been tricked into falling asleep. A straight line weighs nothing. Nothing, also, when it weeps.
kingsoftrain 
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