January 2011
5 posts
the best commune in the history of worst communes
I’ve slowly been learning
how to organize natural disasters inside a body
while coming to terms with how sad it is
that we can empty faster
than we will ever be able to fill.
Let’s live inside this
same hollow shape
we’ve known our whole lives;
we might as well make it a
home,
sleep each Canadian winter
away in quinzees. I promise
we’ll have everything we...
There were so many moments last night that I want to keep safe in the room I don’t have inside of me; they deserve a place in all of this confusion and hopelessness, all this exhausting chaos like the sound a person makes in the backseat when their appendix explodes, that makes me feel ancient and naive at the same time. How long did it take me to finally admit to this?
This morning...
Pasty mouthed and having trouble pronouncing his name, you read Burroughs for the first time. “How bitter,” you said, and then repeated yourself, “bitter,” like you had a hiccup of the taste along the back of your teeth. You pulled me over to you, quoted bitterness at me with your tongue on my chest, trying to impress twenty-something grandiloquent endings into my skin. We would’ve spent the...
(Writing entire letters in parentheses lately, it makes things feel safer, like they can exist or not exist depending on what anyone feels like admitting that day, or like I can’t even commit to words anymore.)