Poetry
Summer 1998
Beat Me Daddy Eight to the Bar
Kissing you is more fun than anything I’ve ever done, including roller coasters and heroin. The din in my head takes a catbird seat to your taming teeth, a time-out […]
Poetry
Summer 1998
Out of Pocket
I might die if he won’t handle me, I’ve got to feel his hands on me, the tricky, trappist way he turns to me and turns me into turning leaves […]
Poetry
Summer 1998
Shoo Fly Shoo
That’s because she’s nice to you, my friend said when I mentioned leading a blue-eyed girl down a pink lane lined with false impressions, pirate loot and trepidation, how I […]