counting on you or chegamos: there are us arrived* eso no es mi lengua primera. and so I try to tell. as roseiras comecao a rebentar the rose trees begins to button* 1. la inundación la cama esta llena de agua. ¿Qué pasó aquí? los paredes saben. y el perro. …

Elegy For My Uncle Whom Coronavirus Stole As I cleaned up what was left behind after the virus took him (Not the first virus, the one he never got despite being Gay in New York in the Eighties and Losing at least one Lover) … The cough drops, the Gatorade, …

This morning I was wondering what the hell I am doing. What am I doing here? What am I doing in New York City, a city filled with breath but not often the deep kind, with paths but very few clear ones, with air but often very thick? I…

It may be endlessly true that we (I?) endlessly crave opposition (do you do, too?). The restlessness of spirit sneaks up like acne, emerging from beneath the surface and drawing attention, waiting for release. Have I found a porch on which to sit? Well, then I’ll crave city lights. Have…

There is a diary from my childhood, one of those “kid” designed ones with a sort of puffy cover and lined multi-colored pages, on which I would write my musings. There was no regularity with which I recorded things, simply when I was moved to like or despise things or…

Four years ago today, the first of the year, I met you unexpectedly. I was only here in Austin for a small handful of days, my escape from the miserable New York winter where auditions bruised my ego and my canine best friend inched towards the end of her life. …