Pale stomach skin without markers of testosterone ( Read more... )

I'm in the Rush Rhees library ( Read more... )

Despite the weather forecast,
promising forty degrees, shivers and frigid showers,
the mercury rose
and rose
and rose.

The people sweated without speaking.

But each man on the sidewalk,
embarrassment highlighting the moisture in his armpits,
maligned his body for overheating
when office policy demanded strict fidelity
to standards of

My friend-brother, brother-friend
-lover, lost-
self, past-self,

where have you gone?

You took the smoke in my lungs,
but I learned to inhale on my own.

We burned the city but you survived.

I cried and you cried
and it didn't matter we kissed.
I wiped it away.

You held the eraser.

My feet burned the bridge.

Metal slowly melted, dripping
molten skin to the highway below.

The Texaco sign signaled destruction.
The pedestrians made polite conversation in the darkness.
The traffic was filmed in stop motion.

Emptiness burst into flame;
no one noticed
the screaming.

The next morning, my throat hurt.
My feet were black ( Read more... )

Acidic wastes decay and bite ( Read more... )

all waves come to an end eventually ( Read more... )

It's quiet in the house, with the hum of the heater the only noise.  And now me, writing ( Read more... )

there are a lot of mistakes we make, even with the best intentions ( Read more... )

1. If you're on my friends list, I want to know a few things about you. I don't care if we never talk, or if we already know everything about each other. Short and sweet is fine ... you're on my list, so I want to know you better. You don't even have to answer all the questions, because some of them are lame and some just hard to think up ( Read more... )