Maybe we could all take care of each other, I dreamed.

There are a lot of queers starved for entertainment from their own community.

I drank some coffee and my outlook improved immensely. I was ready to write some poems and, I don’t know, get drunk, run around, take my shirt off and get kicked out of someplace. You know, live a little.

Maybe if everyone walked around being in touch with each other's hidden pain it could work out and even be beautiful, but it doesn't feel safe to be the only compassionate person on the planet.

it just breaks / a man's heart, watching / a girl so involved with her life, / without him like that.

i wanted to try things, everything, especially things that are illegal and have a faint whiff of glamour.

. I used to advise writers to just write their books and it will find a home, and suddenly that didn't seem as certain. I figured it was time to act. I considered a small press through RADAR, my literary non-profit.