I did this to myself. I have no one else to blame but yours truly.


This weekend I walked around Ann Arbor with an umbrella in one hand and a tripod in the other, desperately trying to shield my camera from the torrent of rain. I had always wanted to capture long exposure shots and thought this was the perfect time to try it out.


I knew I was attracted to men before I knew I was Attracted To Men. It began at my summer camp, a small wooded refuge tucked away in northern Wisconsin. There, one or two hundred boys or so, from age 9 to 15, played, swam, canoed, sailed, crafted, cooked, gathered, laughed, cried.


Edward meets me at the bus stop on campus with our standard greeting: smiling and clapping his hands slowly, letting out a whooping, “O-K, O-K.” He looks like he always has, wide-eyed and enthusiastic but stifling a perceptible weariness, in a hoodie, skinny jeans and white Vans.


Now I am become

I can feel it rising


The silence is crushing

The destroyer of worlds

Your eyes press against mine


I could find eternity here,
nestled somewhere between the pressed cotton sheets and your warm embrace
My worries and fears miles away —
there is an incomprehensible beauty to the fire that burns from within your crevices, which light you up from the inside


I have wondered about you


Am I the new person drawn toward you?

But before I step further, should I take warning?

For I know —

you may not be what I expect.


The Urge


to tattle on her.

Be too grown up to bother.

Choke on laughter —

let it bust out my eyes.


Glimpse my hair in every mirror.


Not To Be


What's in a name?

Nothing if you can't remember it.



A first date should be:





The only member of my family who ever believed in souls was my aunt. “Bless your soul,” she wrote every year in her sloppy and smudged cursive, directly under the pre-printed birthday message.