When Wally asks me to punch him in the stomach, I try not to hold back. I let it rip. I set my feet like he taught me to, draw back my fist, and deliver a blow to the spot he's pointing at—right ... [+]
Poetry
A visit.
Wooded, wooden and magnolia sheltered. Panel lined to be specific.
Breezeless evening
... [+]
the boy says
"where is
your culture?"
like I have
just
forgotten
to put it
on
... [+]