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Blog of Love & Work. Thank You. February 29, 2016: LOVE “I don’t/ know what to sing. I am the others. I hope/the others are me. Like the trees/I don’t know what to sing./no nightingales on my finger.” –Eduardo Chirinos (April 4, [...] by

Dear Reader, There’s a Still Suburb of Friendship, Community, and Poetry & Praising a Note February 23, 2016: I’m drawn back to the past in this blog because I just came back from Massachusetts, where I was visiting my family in Framingham. I traveled with Dale’s sister Jody Sherrard. It felt good to [...] by

Love, Cinema, Writing, Race, & Death February 11, 2016: It was my birthday this past weekend and I’m recovering from a busy trip to Butte, Montana where I was hosted by poet and scholar Isabel Sobral Campos, at Montana Tech, and was invited to talk [...] by

Dale Edwin Sherrard, 1961-2015 February 3, 2016: I am still mourning and still grieving. Known for most of his life as Eddie and then as Dale for the last twenty-six years. So he’s both Eddie and Dale. He used to joke to me that “Dale was [...] by

Tender Theory January 28, 2016: Los Angeles had been a place for an emergence of thinking about the relationship of illness to capitalism, white supremacy, and patriarchy, so it was a good thing that I was there. Johanna Hedva had [...] by

There Exist These Opulent Gardens January 25, 2016: What does it mean to have senses at the end of the world, and what does it mean to have them in common? I was wanting to weep on Wilshire Boulevard, wanting to weep for Soul Cycles and fraying palms [...] by

To Die Historic on Fury Road January 21, 2016: The army was made of War Boys, lumpy with tumors, bald and pale as anyone in chemotherapy, many of them dependent on the terrifying medicine of another (captive) person’s blood. They looked like an [...] by

The Sick Bed & Dr. Donne January 18, 2016: Sometimes I think there is no more tragic piece of furniture than a bed, how quickly it falls from the place you fuck to the place you waste away in. or Sometimes I think there is no more tragic [...] by

To Cure the Sharp Accidents of Disease January 14, 2016: I thought I was telling a joke when I woke up from surgery and said, to the sirens of the ambulance, “Beyonce,” but it came out weirder, like a poem. And if I hadn’t been a poet, none of these [...] by

I Have Taken a Farm at This Hard Rent January 11, 2016: “Chemotherapy is boring,” I’d warn people, and “cancer is terrifying but mostly banal,” and it was true, but by the time Juliana Spahr came to visit, I’d discovered cheap blonde wigs—my [...] by