1969
My brother enlisted in the winter. I pitched for the sixth-grade Indians and coach said I was almost as good […]
Audio, Poems, Tribute to the Best of Rattle, Tributes
Tribute to the Best of Rattle
Poems, Tribute to the Best of Rattle, Tributes
End of Season
Washed and dried, my laundry smells “Spring Fresh,” but to touch, it’s cooling, like autumn. I fold tank tops, T-shirts,
Poems, Tribute to the Best of Rattle, Tributes
The Atheist’s Tunnel
A woman in a bright yellow coat wraps the cuff around my arm and asks me first about headaches, and
Poems, Tribute to the Best of Rattle, Tributes
The Raid
The jail cell is cold and crowded with queens. Leather queens in tight pants, transvestites in gowns, preppies in baggy