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Don't be careful; you might get hurt
This Is Throwback Thursday. 

https://medium.com/message/this-is-throwback-thursday-367cd0d315f
This Is Throwback Thursday. 

https://medium.com/message/this-is-throwback-thursday-367cd0d315f
This Is Throwback Thursday. 

https://medium.com/message/this-is-throwback-thursday-367cd0d315f
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Asking what’s to become of poetry in the age of Twitter is like asking what’s to become of music in the age of guitars. It thrives. It more than thrives; it grows metastatically, invasively, inoperably. Poetry on the Internet has shot far past relevancy through indispensability and finally to vaporization. Poetry is the air we damn breathe.
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The “Amazing”

The “Amazing”

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Age cannot wither the “amaze,” nor custom stale its infinite variety.
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Chinatown
Chinatown

Chinatown

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Some time ago we began to imagine that most romantic relationships, and ALL parent-child ones, land on a continuum with abuse.

(My mom washed my hair too roughly. I don’t like how he interrupts his wife.)

What if we, however briefly, dropped this conceit—& instead envisioned these intimate, idiosyncratic relationships as we envision other benign relationships, like friendships? We could put them on a continuum with, say, heaven.

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"What could be better, after all, than having dinner at the house of a friend—or having good friends to dinner at your own house?…But hospitality can sometimes be risky. To ask someone into your house is to give them the power to complicate your life, right up to the act of taking it."

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