ROOTING DOWN It sounds like a room of tiny bells, the wind coming in through a small, stained window Butterfly...
Creative Work
His breath: two small clouds on the puddled sounds of day, our spines pressed gently into lock. The several million...
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At seventeen, I devoted myself to the pursuit of eroticism. Evolutionary imperatives necessitated a baseline sexual appetite, but I was...
This weekend, I found myself at a party with twenty strangers on the roof of the Watson Center. It felt...