I don’t know if you remember that first night you closed my chest and opened yours, but it was wet and dark.
The fields have been drained, and it is only a matter of time now until the fields can dry no more and are ready for harvest.
On the first day of our last week at Camp Lookout, when the summer was coming to an end, and the nights were colder, and every time we sang “Way Up in Northern Michigan” we felt like crying, the counselors decided to do a joint survival expedition.
I’m a bad person and Mr. Bondad is such a good person. I hope he forgives me. Mr. Bondad opens the door and I freeze. I stare at his dark birthmark. He smiles at me and says come on in.
An empty stage with two microphones waits behind the proscenium. Two spotlights fade in on C. stage. MONROE and ACACIA enter from stage L. and R. respectively and take their places in each spotlight.
MONROE. (Adjusting the microphone so that it isn’t up so high.) Should we start with the show dates?
On the train by the dim / Lit water blue / With white boats / Sloping in, the train / Too metallic and / Rusted for the soft / Evening, the light inside / Too green, reminiscent / Of death and / Cleaning supplies
A film review about the documentary Human that shows people from all over the world. While looking into their eyes, you will hear about life, love and suffering. Their stories will introduce you to other worlds. They will make you think about your own.
I don’t usually assign much spiritual significance to death, but on the 8th of December, when two friends and I went to Potsdam to explore an abandoned cemetery, taking a picture felt wrong. In an effort to make something from the experience or somehow preserve it, I sat down and wrote this poem.