I. Union The hum of brotherhood, ice and cold condensation as though drawing a universe into oneself and collapsing it, the plow and field in ancient memory, and now: lucidity in glass A declaration: “I am the essence of myself, distilled and then diluted.” II. Displacement Unbound, unwound, gripped by a hand (not yet 21) […]
Sometimes we leave our empties on trash cans. Sometimes we can’t be bothered. Other times we throw them at the wall in euphoric rage.
You Wish You Were In My Buddhism Class
August 20, 2025A Love Letter To The John Jay Water Fountain
August 19, 2025Housing Reviews 2025: 600 W. 113th St. (Nuss)
August 19, 2025Housing Reviews 2016: East Campus (Highrise)
August 15, 2025