Don’t talk about it

I toil mostly in obscurity. But which writer does not? / Except for those few who are feted, adored, and / lifted so high. Until they pass from favor & are knocked / back to the second-rank, never to return to / the heights from which they sipped / the better champagnes ...

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Categories Photography Poems Poetry

What I could be

I could be the man the boy / dreamed of being. I could be the / boy the man dreams of remembering. / I could be the man who saved his mother. / I could be the man who fought his father, / who finally and everlastingly / thrummed some sense into / that thick Latinate, hot-blooded, / black-haired head…

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Categories Essays Poetry

‘8 Foot Notes from a Dancer’s Diary’

We prance across the floor & close / the space. Until I see your back to me, those hips, an intoxicating / whiff of shampoo, the outline of your lips, an accidental touch, / matched rhythms, yes, our bodies talking on a wavelength our / minds cannot access ...

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Categories Poetry

‘So Special’

'I think that I cannot be killed, / that my work is incomplete, / my dreams / not yet completely manifested … / Why do we think this way?'

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Categories Poetry

‘What Does the Past Look Like?’

A more Catholic grade school name you could / not conjure — Our Lady of the Rosary. Where, on a / bright Saturday afternoon, I'm surprised to find / an orange traffic cone propping open a first-floor / door. And so, as one will do when invited by the / cosmos to stroll the hallways where you once / walked…

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