Why I Am Not a Writer

On Friday I gave my first lecture of the semester on the topic writing, and after going through all the ways in which we use language to help us communicate our thoughts and our feelings, and reading "Why I Am Not a Painter" by Frank O'Hara, I asked my students to write about two topics:... Continue Reading →

“Love Song” (A Playlist)

Drunk in Love Crazy in Love The Power of Love Till There Was You The Trouble With Love How Deep Is Your Love? Love Bites Keep On Loving You Is This Love? Endless Love Thinking Out Loud Thinking of You Vision of Love Make You Feel My Love (I Can’t Help) Falling in Love I'm... Continue Reading →

Lady’s Lament

Why are bathrooms in New York always cold? In winter, even the bathroom supplies huddle under the sink, and are of no use. Not that big of a problem to those with warm bathrooms and hot towels but just think about it— what’s worse than pulling down your pants bladder about to burst, and that... Continue Reading →

The Who’s Who

Red Dress Blue Glasses and Cream Sweater All-Black Suit White Hair Red Jacket Blonde Turtle--Light Blue Floofy Black-on-Tan Lavender-Gray over Black White Hair and Beard Black Jacket Converse and Large Cuffs Sparkles on Red Socks Dark Plaid and Coif Suit and Tie, Sharp Red Tie and a Bald Spot Brown Curls and Necklace and a... Continue Reading →

Kalypso

You may find her in the heart of an island out at sea, giant leaves fanning her, little nymphs at her feet and when you find her you may bow to her, sing her songs, give her treats tokens she holds forever even after you leave, because you know you are destined to leave, to... Continue Reading →

First Day of September (2018)

And some leaves are already falling— not red, not orange, not yellow, nor beautiful but coarse, crinkly, and brown— and already the air feels cooler, the breeze crisper or was that just the placebo’s whisper? Yes, this is best: a cosmopolitan on the balcony the leaves of the trees obscuring the sun and your dog at... Continue Reading →

Slut Queen Dreams

for Leslie King I Hey tickle tickle, the snail and the pickle The rat meows in bed. The street kitty barks, a rabid delight And the snail crawls all over it’s head! II One, two, “I like you.” Three, four, “Clothes on the floor.” Five, six, “Got nude pics?” Seven, eight, “He comes, you wait.”... Continue Reading →

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