Leaving you was like the way some doors have to be open a bit to lock. Meeting you was an accidental brush at the nape of the neck in a crowd: that thrum coupled with fear. To know each other, we need to take something in together; to trust, we must pass dangerous objects, sharp or burning, palm to cupped palm. We talk this way . . .
Tag: Nina Puro
Featured: Music/Popular Culture/Art
- Sale Simon’s Cat Bundle
- How the Left Lost Teen Spirit
- Spoke: Images and Stories from the 1980s Washington, DC Punk Scene
- Simon’s Cat Off to the Vet . . . and Other Cat-astrophes
- Of Mule and Man
- Bronx Biannual Issue No. 2: The Literary Journal of Urbane Urban Literature
- Hello Sunshine
- Playing President: My Close Encounters with Nixon, Carter, Bush I, Reagan, and Clinton–and How They Did Not Prepare Me for George W. Bush
- Drawing Autism
- Sale Amiri Baraka 3-for-1 Sale!
- Of Grunge and Government: Let’s Fix this Broken Democracy!