Just Enough Time on My Hands

Ah the wide world of poetry. Tuesday night, my program had its first-annual thesis read-in at a local cafe (walking distance from my apartment!). Not officially program-sanctioned, but student-sanctioned, which is more important. This is what it looks like when I read poetry in public, which really only happens every 2-3 years, at this rate (photos courtesy of my friend Eugenia). I had crazier shit planned than what ended up happening, but DARPA and the MAAD caught wind of what I was going to do and pulled their usual strings to keep it from happening. Nonetheless:

Towards a simultaneity of intensity and half-assedness

"There once was a man from Nantucket..."