James A. Reeves
They’re Making Video Poems About the 1990s
Evensong
Feedback Loops
The photograph of my mom refuses to leave the auditorium. We jiggle the cords, but she’s still there, twenty feet tall and gazing at the water.
His Faces Melt in the Rain
Bacon's detailed grins and snarls provide an entry point into the surreal.
Gaps and Threads
Midnight in London
We Tuned In to Watch Airplanes
Dark Trees
I never know how seriously to take anything anymore.
The Ides of February
I keep colliding with people in the streets and shops. I just can't pick up the rhythm here.
Night Flight to London
