Michael Broder

When I think of how it began, I enter an endless regression— before the visit to the counselor’s office, blood draw, awful flu in May, before I let Tony fuck me raw to say I was sorry. But that wasn’t the first time. The first time I got fucked was in 1984. We already knew […]

The graffiti in the lobby reads Beat Master Mike, probably written by a delivery boy or a friend of the skater kid on 17. But it’s chilling, my name like that inscribed on the wall, and exhilarating, like going under the boardwalk late at night. I read it first as a violent exhortation— beat an […]

You can’t really I don’t think write it today the kind of poem Sappho wrote six hundred years before Christ where you surprise the world saying not an army is it on horseback or of foot soldiers or a fleet of sailing ships that on the black earth is the most beautiful thing but rather […]