Friday, April 19, 2013


Maybe the page is stupid.
But it doesn’t have to be
that way.  Let’s try it a
different way.  I sit and
think through the slats
of the blinds for a few
hours.  Open-ended
is the new panic.  I’m
even starting to get
abstract.  I mean
understand it (I am
wholly concrete).
Those are stupen-
dous lines for a
twenty-three year
old.  After which
I hide my face in
shame.  I’m on
the dancefloor
dancing, though.
There is no shame.
There are no rolling
eyes.  Only ambition.
When I woke up I
realized that I had
left it on all night.