Your kick was powerful and it was very challenging to change your diaper. I actually felt this kick when you were in my tummy, which made me think you were a boy.
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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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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?
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 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.
my other body always knows what to steal and when to stop
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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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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.
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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Yesterday you went to the desert I put on Brahms channel and washed the tub my fur stood up seeing your ... Read More >
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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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 >
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.