I got a new puppy
and it’s made me think.
Dogs are so loving
their hearts practically sing
they want to be near you
for every little thing.

My dog stared at me
rolled around on his back
his upside-down grin
gave me something that
I’d forgotten I’d needed.

He’s a good boy
but he thinks
I’m a good boi.
And that’s enough
(for now).

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Sometimes I feel like
Dick Grayson
Optimistic despite all I’ve seen.
I believe goodness
in potential
in growth and hope.
I believe love can,

It’s a slim foundation.

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Dripping slowly
large and full
if sadness were water
it’d drown the world.

Not lonely
not exactly;
not unhappy
but not really happy.

How do you
explain an emotion
that has no words
and has no match?


Sometimes I go to bed
and wish I could stay up.
Sometimes I go to bed
and wish wouldn’t wake up.

It’s all the same end
with different middles.
But what was
the beginning?

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Sometimes I soak
in the unhappy truth
that the world is simple
in its complexity.
That mad scientist rant
isn’t just an ideal
it’s the truth
we never encounter.
So on purpose, I lay
in the pool that sparkles
making connections
between this and that.
Though I never find comfort
in the things that I know now
or familiarity
which seeps into pores.
What I find instead is clarity
which shows me the way
to joy and comfort, at last.

,ברוך השם שאני יכול לאהוב
.ולראות מה אני רוצה

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Guest Post

Hey Y’all, I wrote a guest post for my friend’s blog at Poly.Land, and thought you may be interested. It’s kinda a followup to Feeling Single Sucks from October. Click through and enjoy!


Today’s piece is a guest blog post from Fluffy, an academic in-training, who is studying organizational behavior in hopes of making the world a better place. They previously contributed “I Was Treated as a Disease Vector: Why There Are So Few Gay Men in Pansexual Polyamory” to Poly.Land. Fluffy’s regular blog is Eclectic Discourse (where pith goes…

via Being Single Sucks, But We Don’t Want to Hear About It — Poly.Land

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I’ve been listening
to Kesha today.
The new album
that came out?
It’s really good.
I love it.
Please buy it.
Please love it.

Is this still a poem?

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In the dark creeps a bogeyman
who sings, like the rest,
of the midnight moonglare
on its hidden bogeynest.
He howls and he screeches
till the children lie awake
then they tremble as he reaches
fingers slithering like snakes.
His teeth gnash and grind them
as they cry for the breast
of their mother, father, someone
who could save them from the rest.
But the bogeyman is careful
as he eats the child’s bones
depositing one bogeychild
who takes their place in their home
The bogeychild goes to sleep
the bogeychild does not weep
the bogeychild does not make a peep
and so the parents tend to keep
So if you know a little child
who used to cry but doesn’t
beware for that’s a bogeychild
and not your little cousin.

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One to one
or ten to ten.
Does nuance count
or in the end
would we rather a shorthand
that becomes prescriptive
and hide from ourselves
instead of knowing?

Do you choose binary
or trinary
or quaternary
or quinary
Know only this:
Life will complexify
it’s simple physics.

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Lips to eyelids
mouth to stars.
Mind to darkness
touch enwrapped.
Sleep to brainstem
dreams to dreams.
Wake to nothing
n o t h i n g.

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When I lay under you
I never have to move
because it is sooth-
 ing being inside you 
if I never ate again
I would be fine with
that, dearest friend
because you leave me
feeling full and I'm
able to be satiated.
I am reminded of the
way in which you can
kiss deeply into the
one spot in my neck,
where bone meets all
sinew, flesh, and...
I start to miss home
 while I'll miss your 
caress, I still know
that there is where,
for now, I do belong


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