The Things We Name

You expand
beyond the limits of your body.
No clarity,
no time. Read more →



The anarchist pop star had a baby with the son of a billionaire. It’s a little green-grey wad of cash and guns. Proof, for those who needed it, that she hadn’t really meant the things she’d said.

I think about the pop star’s baby with the billion-heir often. Read more →

If You Would See

If you would like to see Love beating me,
How I’m attacked, how he’s my conqueror,
How he can burn, and freeze my heart yet more,
How from my shame he takes his majesty: Read more →


They say that the best solution is to stay young of body as you grow old of mind. Stay young on the outside and grow on the inside. Settle down, learn life’s lessons and have experiences in a young person’s body. Rush headlong into life with a young person’s force. Because force, according to adults, is that rising slope of regenerating cells. At twenty-five, it’s the downward slope. At twenty-five, you hit the point of no return and start going backwards. The cells get lazy, start daydreaming. They’ve had enough of being good and keeping busy; they’re sick of desperately splitting into four. At twenty-five, it’s like the cells start missing roll call. They pop and sizzle like a slice of bacon shrivelling in a pan. That’s where the aging starts. That’s the decay, the degeneration. That’s what they say. Read more →

Two Poems by Hugo

Tomorrow, At Dawn (Demain dès l’aube, Les Contemplations, 1856) Tomorrow, at dawn, the hour in which the country whitens, I will leave. You see, I know that you wait for  [More…]