Cliff House

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Listening to a podcast about the abolitionist movement as we drive through Ohio. Maybe I really should teach Beloved in AP.

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At Tierney's have a chili + aperol cocktail and watching SATC "Bay of Married Pigs." Drive to Toledo in the morning.

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Salman (2026) by Komail Aijazuddin. Oil on canvas.

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Peter feeling the same way — each summer has to be a significant day — ugh relief

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Gotta do laundry and pack for Toledo… in my Nike bag. Bring leather loafers! Then head to Tierney’s.

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that runs / down your neck / until it doesn’t…

Poem name: Heat Wave

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Lovely seeing you tonight.

I mean Lovely seeing you last night.

men are dozing under the trees

or on the backs of their motorbikes,

their damp shirts draped over their faces…

It’s not too hot to touch.

Especially here, in the many shadows,

a bead of sweat running down your neck,

even if I can’t finish a thought.

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Every summer I'm convinced I'm wasting the summer.

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Hey: let’s sleep in the shade. 

Every other man’s snoozing

under the trees or on the backs of their motorbikes,

their damp shirts

draped over their eyes.

Hey: want to join me? I promise

we would be cool there, dozing together

on this hot summer day

in the many shadows of the shade.

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So fucking hot. Moiz's lavender on his chest which I licked off as he straddled me in the shade by the fountain. And the urge to doze under the shade with him.

Men snoozing under the trees, or on the backs of their motorbikes, their damp shirts draped over their eyes.

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Heat wave. But I’m so happy I’m about to see Moiz.

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went to the gym, drank too much cold brew and didn't eat enough, plus it was so hot - felt so anxious and unwell. eating some chocolate and now home in the a/c. seeing Moiz at 3:30 ahhh

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Driving home from the beach feeling really happy.

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In the Chesapeake, swimming, under the bridge, traffic hurtling by — my draft. I’ll finish. But also: how much I want to change as a poet. And thinking, metacognitively, about how I write poems; why am I a poet, anyways?

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Schedule acupuncture for Thursday.