Kelly At Large

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Letters from Exile: des mémoi…
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In which I recount the compelling story of the fly and my own failed attempt to unravel my thoughts on retirement.
Kelly Cogswell
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An interlude in Cincinnati in which I write poetry, make art, pray to trees and finally sleep with an out lesbian.
Kelly Cogswell
2
In which Macron strong-arms the strong-armers in France, and we wait for the fall-out.
Kelly Cogswell
"I’d heard of laughable bra-burning, man-hating feminists, but I’d never heard someone name their enemy. That’s really the whole key to the racket. How…
Kelly Cogswell
Why the strike in Paris stinks. Plus lesbians make a comeback, gardening pays off, and women in Iran dance for freedom.
Kelly Cogswell
Sometimes, when I scurry past, I lift my head and look at them, the men. I see the melancholy beauty of their eyes. The false bravado of the slouching…
Kelly Cogswell
How in France, "politicians really are expected to do nothing. And if they get above themselves, and try to, the street will bring them to their knees…
Kelly Cogswell
What will it take? Dare I seize them?—The means of production from the tits to the tongue? Marx knew nothing of real machines, the dreaming ones which…
Kelly Cogswell
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