Skevanston, Illinois

By - Apr 24, 2017

In 1977, my parents bought a house on a busy street. The home fell inside of a half-square mile oddity of land and bureaucratic mishap that the locals called Skevanston. This real estate snafu allowed people like my parents to buy a better valued home in the city of Evanston’s school district while paying the town of Skokie’s lower property taxes.

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So You Think You Can Dance (On My Grave)

By - Apr 23, 2017

Can you imagine I’ve never shaken one hand, never faked one smile, never kissed any curator’s asymmetrically pant-clad ass, to achieve this comfortable if not wildly successful career I have?
    That in four years I’ve gone to six art openings, three mine, one my wife’s, two my best friends. Did you know that was possible? To just stay home and work?

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excerpts from Person/a

By - Apr 21, 2017

Lately I have been wondering how many accidental car crashes are misdiagnosed suicides. It seems that if your intent is to kill yourself without afterward being thought an asshole by your friends and family, running your car into a tree or telephone pole would be the way to do it. Nobody gets hurt and everyone chalks it up as a “freak occurrence.” Of course now that I’ve posed the question in this form, I have eliminated it as a possibility for myself.

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I AM YOUNG IN MY LOVE FOR THE MOON

By - Apr 19, 2017

I wanted to write a love poem

the most impossible thing

and I did
and it wasn’t hard

and afterward I took a walk
and nothing seemed hard.

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Unmovable Mover

By - Apr 17, 2017

my other body always knows what to steal and when to stop

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Five Poems

By - Apr 15, 2017

Time poem

If time is money

and I don’t have money

then I don’t have time

for your bullshit

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I Know About Micrograms Now

By - Apr 12, 2017

In 2012 I didn’t know much about micrograms.
Drugs I used then were measured mostly in milligrams.
2 milligrams of Xanax, 30 milligrams of Adderall.

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Office Day

By - Apr 10, 2017

What do I do in the evenings? I take off the mask. I stare into the eyes of a man in a photograph. I hum. The humming is based on ancient chants I read about in a book. Lately, my concern has been with wholeness: Am I whole? Should I be completed? What will do the legwork of this completion?

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WET HAIR

By - Apr 9, 2017

Yesterday you went to the desert I put on Brahms channel and washed the tub my fur stood up seeing your ... Read More >

Tupac Dies in the End

By - Apr 7, 2017

Tupac sits among the thousands of people at the Seldon vs. Tyson fight. Tupac feels calm. He loves Tyson, and he wants to watch a man get destroyed. He wants to experience victory. Suge Knight is sitting next to him – his best friend, his boss, the owner of Death Row Records. As Tupac looks around, he thinks that he has never felt like one of them. He has always felt, deep in his chest, that his life was an emergency, that he could never quit for even one second. Everyone around him lived in mimicry, and this mimicry killed him.

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Three Poems

By - Apr 5, 2017

I wanna b a mountain does a mountain still get her period? I wanna b a racoon but still date Donny H. like I ... Read More >

Chicken

By - Apr 4, 2017

Back when I was doing cocaine, we found a chicken in our yard. We weren’t sure how it got there, but it wouldn’t leave. My wife made me take a broom outside to try to scare it away.
     “It’s just a chicken,” I said.
     “You’re a chicken,” she said.

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