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: … Read More
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. We smile just the same as … Read More
The Fall To the first girl I ever kissed, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, but the rum and Coke tasted so good on your tongue. I’m sorry, too, that my hands were not soft against your skinny calves, crossed at … Read More
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, … Read More
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 … Read More
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.