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Single Man

Single Man

It was just like last time

or something like that anyway

with my boys gone,

in their own ways displaced from the advantageous

cavernous black hole of sound

that consumed us.

swallowed and birthed us in its gloomy dungeon

floating amidst the waves


bad boys, skinny girls with that look on their face like,

fuck off

and everybody in between hazing into the black cement tattered walls

blue lighting seeping through the ceilings

dips between the pure

gray industrial gradients

drifting through the halls

like we’ve been here before

we came here to dance

the feelings fall somewhere in between

on point for you boo

let’s stay in the shadows

the air we breathe heavy and wet

drips down the wall





taking it

the warm wet sea of strangers glides and sly

fall further

above the black

below the fracture



gravel in our mouths

cold spins backwards filter into the hard scene


step one two baby

tender though


Poem by Alex Helfand

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"At my gym there's a sign saying "This is a fragrance-free zone". I thought about it and, yes, perfume in a gym might be kind of weird, like smelling cooking bacon when trying to fall asleep at night. And then last week a younger male gym-goer showed up and as he walked across the floor, everyone's eyes started burning and their nostrils flared. This wasn't  because he was in some way, hot. It was because he was wearing a male body spray. The odour was half industrial, half ultra-cheap soap, and had he been waring any more, he would have resembled Pigpen from Charlie Brown, going through life with his own visible weather system. Fortunately, the staff at my gym are fearless and they landed on this guy  like hawks. He won't be wearing Satan's Tears there again anytime soon. " Douglas Coupland Continue reading