now i know 
men ain’t supposed to cry 
big girls neither
but when you get to be with the one
who swept you off your feet eight months prior 
and now u gotta pack up and go home after eight days 
well i think that’s cause for some tears
happy and sad ones 
green tears
hot tears
after denying myself your love
n you standing there a lil bit impatient w me 
cuz u gotta get cross-town and
what’s the next six weeks compared to that?
nothin at all doll
nuthin at all 

we have been bio-logically
inclined, i prefer conditioned
we have been conditioned 
with the bio-logic 
which hold that life 
is form is function
is permanently fixed 
unfuxkwittable
but us we know 
this bio-logic clock
is a lie a myth a making us
crazy and begone! begin
a new era of 
loving 
living
& licking 

yesterday was the day before 
today was today, the day before 
tomorrow was the day 
you told me you cared
the day after i stopped caring
and after that
there were no more days to count

There are so many roots to the tree of anger
that sometimes the branches shatter
before they bear.
— Read on sites.williams.edu/engl113-f18/marr/who-said-it-was-simple/

your breath the sweet cradle 
of my nights, your chest rising and falling 
the metronome that stilled my heart 
my paranoia melting in your arms
i was safe there / i was not always there
i came to this place and i was alone 
even though i was always saying we 
are never alone, i was alone 
your breath the vacuum 
of my nights, my chest tightening and tightening
the metronome that killed my heart
my paranoia creeping into crevices 
i was safe there / i was not always there

by Maureen N. McLane What a strange, vital, careening book—what a book for now. Yet also, what a fascinating document of the early 20th century. A Poet in New York, “New York in a Poet,” as Lorca himself glossed it: this is clearly one of the great works of transnational modernism, a cracked A…
— Read on fsgworkinprogress.com/2013/04/18/on-lorcas-poet-in-new-york/