Prose Mallow

[continent]

Letting the dog out back for her morning run.

Sep 28 • 

Guérin

5

[harpoon]

There are two large spiderwebs outside my door.

Sep 23 • 

Guérin

4

July 2025

[agglomera]

Humidity.

Jul 30 • 

Guérin

12

1

March 2025

[a southern somewhere before the equinox]

5:41 A.M.:—morning, a southern somewhere;

Mar 19 • 

Guérin

6

1

[arrhythmia]

I’ve been here and there. Mostly here.

Mar 10 • 

Guérin

12

3

February 2025

[itineraries]

Two mornings back, you and I got married in the middle of a storm.

Feb 2 • 

Guérin

11

4

January 2025

[a new year at the tundras]

What it means to write about the year, the year passed by, in its displacement, that the year is displaced, years never escape us, we escape nothing but…

Jan 3 • 

Guérin

2

November 2024

[the waiting room of the world]

LIFTING MY HAND from the book I find a tiny fruit fly pressed into my hand.

Nov 7, 2024 • 

Guérin

3

[roses, power lines, the growing cenotaphs of summer green]

Purple clouds at 4 a.m., 5 a.m., 6—and the bedroom is aglow, the walls and floor made out of waking eyes, only just, only one adjusted slat of plastic…

Nov 3, 2024 • 

Guérin

5

October 2024

Still

Lawnmowers are thorough because there is one that always works somewhere on these streets, their stretching veins obsessed with pillaged space.

Oct 22, 2024 • 

Guérin

2

[the one with the lesson]

Neighbor six steps from the hilltop crosses us mid-walk and yes, he is.

Oct 20, 2024 • 

Guérin

3

1

Metamorphosis

In Goethe’s The Metamorphosis of Plants: what is unthinkable, invisible, counts as walls, what qualifies as a stipule, calyces, the axis point of…

Oct 17, 2024 • 

Guérin

2