I live in Baltimore.

just in case you forgot it was me

feelings recently and always

Dear Dude…

You don’t owe me any apologies, or even explanations. Not even footnotes. Keep in mind to whom ye speake—a natural word-thief in every way. The weird thing about that gang-bang scene, though, is that we BOTH stole it from my tape—which makes me think I should have been a pro football commentator instead of a writer.

—Hunter S. Thompson in a letter to Tom Wolfe (after Wolfe was accused of plagiarizing the gang bang scene in The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test from a passage describing the same event in Thompson’s Hell’s Angels.)

(Source: ancientchrome)



Enough, enough
now. You have been
through the roll-
call of Scandinavian
saints, blonde
artifacts, blue stones
washed into shores
called your eyes, for want
of better water, no one
has known what to
say. I see now not
the port but the muscular
animals below
the tide, their skin
in taut revolt

throwback for my hydromancer

an excerpt from Anne Carson’s “THE GLASS ESSAY”

"Pitiless too are the Heights, which Emily called Wuthering  
because of their ‘bracing ventilation’ 
and ‘a north wind over the edge.’

Whaching a north wind grind the moor
that surrounded her father’s house on every side,  
formed of a kind of rock called millstone grit,

taught Emily all she knew about love and its necessities—
an angry education that shapes the way her characters
use one another. ‘My love for Heathcliff,’ says Catherine,

'resembles the eternal rocks beneath
a source of little visible delight, but necessary.’ 
Necessary? I notice the sun has dimmed

and the afternoon air sharpening.
I turn and start to recross the moor towards home.  
What are the imperatives

that hold people like Catherine and Heathcliff  
together and apart, like pores blown into hot rock  
and then stranded out of reach

of one another when it hardens? What kind of necessity is that?  
The last time I saw Law was a black night in September.  
Autumn had begun,

my knees were cold inside my clothes.  
A chill fragment of moon rose.
He stood in my living room and spoke

without looking at me. Not enough spin on it,  
he said of our five years of love.
Inside my chest I felt my heart snap into two pieces

which floated apart. By now I was so cold  
it was like burning. I put out my hand  
to touch his. He moved back.

I don’t want to be sexual with you, he said. Everything gets crazy.  
But now he was looking at me.
Yes, I said as I began to remove my clothes.

Everything gets crazy. When nude
I turned my back because he likes the back.  
He moved onto me.

Everything I know about love and its necessities  
I learned in that one moment  
when I found myself

thrusting my little burning red backside like a baboon  
at a man who no longer cherished me.  
There was no area of my mind

not appalled by this action, no part of my body  
that could have done otherwise.
But to talk of mind and body begs the question.

Soul is the place,
stretched like a surface of millstone grit between body and mind,  
where such necessity grinds itself out.

Soul is what I kept watch on all that night.
Law stayed with me.
We lay on top of the covers as if it weren’t really a night of sleep and time,

caressing and singing to one another in our made-up language  
like the children we used to be.  
That was a night that centred Heaven and Hell,

as Emily would say. We tried to fuck
but he remained limp, although happy. I came  
again and again, each time accumulating lucidity,

until at last I was floating high up near the ceiling looking down  
on the two souls clasped there on the bed  
with their mortal boundaries

visible around them like lines on a map.  
I saw the lines harden.  
He left in the morning.”

UNRWA | United Nations Relief and Works Agency for Palestine Refugees in the Near East

This is the branch of the UN that focuses on relief in Gaza.  I just finished donating the proceeds from the Baltimore reading “Shaking Off.”  Please consider donating individually!  You can determine the amount, and you can dictate select a specific program among several to receive your donation.  The money can go to medicine, emergency supplies, improving conditions in refugee camps, or assisting children who have lost their parents, homes, and access to education in the latest bombardments of Gaza.



I hear President Obama say
he thinks Israel has a right
to defend itself. I think,
Me too, I think,

I want to hear Israel
defend itself today.

I don’t want to hear
the number of rockets
Hamas has fired,
I don’t want to hear about
human shields, I want
to hear the reason why
two hundred Palestinian
children were two hundred
too many, the ways
in which they posed a threat.
I want to hear
how many times you can
bomb shelters and
hospitals before someone’s
scream that this
is no accident
 is heard, I want
to hear Israel’s defense
above the noise it makes
while crushing another
nation into silence.

Read More

a reading by Palestinian poet Rafeef Ziadah, please watch this.