At work and Anemarie is running around Hartwick, asking hot guys if she can take pictures of them…why we’re best friends…
Hey Fuck Yeah Slam Poem Fans! Looking for more interesting poetry/spoken...
I read so many books in Borders as a kid. I’d be like 3/4 of the way through them by the time my mom found me and bought me the book.
is the kind of handiwork
you do in the presence of the dead,
gentle dexterity of being alive.
My grandmother knit over 100 kippot
for every bar mitzvah ceremony
of her eight grandchildren. Errant skullcaps,
dark primaries and metallic wools,
alight all around her house.
She has a ticket to my graduation, and today,
idling above the rec rooms of the dead,
I realized I should pray that she’ll make it.