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 →

Argentine Tea Time

iced passion tango you and me, querido little here, little there your claws around my jugular black and white stiletto wrapped around your ego we dance the dance not saying much we're doing what we know and me, a tea cup, spitting into your mouth, which only swallows

Delightfully mad and sad I am So true, so true! Ignited by your humanity, and my insanity ensues. Forsooth! Such famous fury and surely, you'd feel it too— for if not I'd be all alone in this, my visionary tune!

The Crisis

Hark!— The subway trains are toast packed to the brim with some of the most imbecilic trolls. Hands and feet in between the closing doors. Priority seats taken up by twenty-something-year-olds. And countless homeless souls begging greedy pockets for a quarter. We have a courtesy crisis on our hands! And no enforcement to behold. Only... Continue Reading →

Luna de Sombra

Green, enchanting green, How I long for you to appear How I long for you to pick me up And empty me of my tears. Green, such loving green, How I desire to feel your pain How I desire to wash it over me So I’d forget what I can’t explain. * Two sisters sit... Continue Reading →

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