a spoken word poem written for my friend (performed March 2016 at Boston University)
how do we maintain personhood despite the overwhelming pressure to choose what we want to be? we choose HOW we’re going to be instead.
advice from a quintessential softball dad that somehow applies to writing (and all other creative endeavors)
i felt about as rainy tuesday in april
as a person can possibly feel,
but i swore
you looked like
an early morning in june.
in which I discuss life and death and Last Words Ever that turned out to not actually Last Words Ever but instead became my last words of 2015