Midnight is a pompous lie, all poetic meaning and dramatic wherewithal and glimmering showmanship. Can’t write a bad poem without throwing midnight in there. Privileged hour of private dicks, werewolfs, heavy metal singers. An overpromise, that’s what midnight is. No one gets laid at midnight: the partnered fuck at eleven, and the single at three … Continue reading A Musical Interlude In Little Aleppo