I still remember just how you look/
naked, the pale curve of your back,/
the quiet inlet where it bends/ to meet the taper of your waist,/
shower water wending where it will/
along the architecture of your form.
She deduced that she really had only one option left. She would pretend to be a social critic who attends concerts not for personal enjoyment, but to document the mundanity of music in the post-hipster revival of Williamsburg.
Crime can never be abolished by disregarding the criminal, but only by loving him, and there can be no love without forgiveness first.
The wall of notebooks was the sexiest place in the bookstore. I would stand before it, searching for just the right one that might be perfect for recording all of my brilliant thoughts.
The cubicle is both cell and kingdom– a place of entrapment and a place to claim as yours alone.
How might restorative justice have changed the trial of James Bonard Fowler?
Factor in the sands of granite/
That obligate a shape/
by setting sedimentary.
And there in front of you, as you are whipped by the winds, is a window, framed softly by curtains, and inside is a light on a side table, and next to it a comfortable chair.
I could see it coming. It started in their bellies, worked its way into their hands and feet, and finally made its way to their eyes.