Dry Spell is an extended meditation on queer identity and desire. Weaving between the lyrical and the narrative, the imaginative and the confessional, this micro-chapbook interrogates what it means to exist in a body that wants–perhaps even needs–to make contact with other bodies in transgressive ways. Such perverse longing, for example, is what is at the heart of the micro-chapbook’s title poem (which first appeared in the final issue of BLOOM): “It is October,” it reads; “I know / it is harvest time. I know I should be thinking // like Rilke of heavy wines and being / alone, but something about / the smell of dead leaves gets me // hard.” Equal parts lust and loss, eros and elegy, Dry Spell poses the same question to the reader over and over again: how does a person desire when he’s burdened with a body he doesn’t understand?
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