last night i brought him a sandwich, chocolate milk, and a film about frantz fanon, brought them to his house through the wind (february wind). he could smell the whiskey on my breath, and i could smell the cigarettes on his; tuesday night vices, you see. i took the book from his hands (marx and engels reader), dropped it to the floor, went to the ( Read more... )

i didn't sleep well ( Read more... )

(just) some things ( Read more... )

The young Asian psychiatrist asks me if the numbness is in my extremities, and for a minute I don’t understand. Then I say no, no emotionally. Numb emotionally. I don’t feel. Anymore. Oh, oh, I see, he says, and he’s unfazed and he scribbles things down. He’s got a wedding band, and he doesn’t look like he ever needs to shave. But there’s some ( Read more... )

and this week it all ends, the summer my childhood the carlisle years we move on we move on we move on we move out and some say they never look back (but their necks are always craned to the side can't help it, small town kids knowing the past forever it is us we, we cannot escape it not now not now not tonight not yet). scratch marks on my arm my ( Read more... )

this is my summer ( Read more... )

it's all still there ( Read more... )

on spring so far (in words not-quite-right and phrases spun from sleepless nights ( Read more... )

storming spring in the predawn eating yogurt with a knife feeling feeling feeling dreaming yearning morning is the new night and cigarettes on a gray morning joggers and a cup of coffee to borrow a bit from a friend birds were winging following an ashen sky smoke in the night and pills in my proverbial pockets spring comes carrying summer and i ( Read more... )

backandforthandbackandforthandbackandforth ( Read more... )