I remember being sent a picture once from one of my old roommates, Louise, back in Chicago where I came from. The photo was taken when she’d come out for a visit to California. In the picture I am sitting on the front stairs of my house in the Rockridge

i flew

I bought some charlatan art / and hung it on the wall

I had dreams of being permeated with the heat of Caramelized sisters. A declawed cat kept creeping along my apartment walls.

not the sky

‘Didn't you used to have a daughter?' The tense and phraseology jarred, but he was inarticulate not ignorant, awkward rather than unaware of how it sounded and she smiled at him.

That night he dreamed about a duel with toothbrushes....

And Mickey said to the reporter, "I wrote a play for Richard. It is the wild play I performed with Richard. I think he will like this shit."

Beneath the crosshatch gazes of the satellites and above the maze of sound, seahorse clouds exhale a glaucoma haze before they are absorbed into surveillance footage

I am abandoned to the mundane/ calculations of a small mind/ trapped by small considerations

We invent our beauties// as we find them and engineer/ our horrors

Tonight was no remarkable night. The sun rose and set without question, children’s hearts broke with truth, around the world millions of people lost someone they cared about, millions people fell in love. It was an average day—it was unremarkable. It w

Under the dirty orange glow of sodium streetlights, the glistening pavement looks slick, but it’s only just wet. The mid-November temperature is cool—quite mild, actually, for this late time of year—still hovering in the upper 30s—so far posing only the

We were just as bourgeois as Bloomingdale’s, one generation past canned ravioli dinners with cheap white bread.

Frey wanted to see heaven without having to die. He had returned from the sea after being gone for three weeks, ranting wildly about a giant ship he had seen in the distance one afternoon.