Basilica

Frank’s photos—
are like his fiction—
show clean, hard lines. 

Perspective and distance 
form his creed. 

Where others see lovers 
he sees only shapes. 
He once sacrificed a son 
for the sake of composition. 

“If a man did this right,” 
says Frank, 
“he wouldn’t need God.” 

Frank’s photos line the wall
like smoking candles. 
They form a shrine 
to the dying light.