I am at a lecture. A lot of the people here are old, but I am kind of young. I am eighteen, which is young but not young like people say I am. I have not been twelve for six years, and when I take off my clothes, don’t say I look so young. I will not put out. Anyway. I am going to a lecture and when I reach to pull up my pants in the bathroom stall, I realize I’m not wearing underwear. I’m not wearing underwear, and I’m not wearing a belt, and probably the man who was sitting behind me (who is old) will see my ass when I sit down again. Everyone is dressed nicely except for me and my bare ass. I am only at this lecture because Kevin sometimes looks like a puppy. This is a narrative, kind of. This is a kind of narrative.

The Great Drying-Up is coming.
I can feel it in
the way I’m beginning...

It’s hard to miss the flyers across campus proclaiming our need of a Center for Abstinence and Chastity. Hotly contested articles in the Prince and a weeklong lecture series on the subject, spearheaded by Robbie George, further increase the prominence of the debate. Proponents for the Center argue that ...

The Fall

1.
Waiting are they? Let them wait. This is the last of the earth!
Codeine. . .bourbon, I am
Content.
It’s just that I
can’t sleep. Boats
are knocking,
boats against the past. I
worry. Don’t
let poor Nelly starve: I understand,
my worn tongue reeling,
why the ...

It’s not the perfect photo,
this latest of you and me.
The light is bad, grainy and too-dark, but
the pub was small
and mirrored
and just what I’d imagined
when I’d imagined England.

When I catch sight of my stitches in periphery, I think they are hairs growing out of my wrist, like black wiry hairs growing out of a mole or on the jaw lines of women. Then I think of Marie, whose name I thought was Murray at first because of ...