it`s like the 3 bears sd.— this is a fucking LOT o porridge we should have Goldilocks over, but we’re never at home David Earl Williams is from Kentucky, the eastern part where the wild k-y berry grows. (It`s slippery!) He lives now at Fishtown-Gloucester, Massachusetts. Recent publications include: incessant pipe.com, and Yellow Chair Review. You can find him on YouTube.
On the day Whitney Houston died, you texted with teary-eyed poor grammar, the first thing you did when you found out was to go to bought her greatest hits. Ears deaf to most sounds: the vibrations and pitches she could hit, belt— you could hear. And I think that’s why I can remember you naming The Bodyguard your favorite movie. When you were laid up in your final days, dad […]
“I remember feeling ashamed, for some reason. I was ashamed of my parents. I couldn’t face some of my friends at school anymore, because I desperately wanted to have the classic, you know, typical family.” – Kurt Cobain When you tell our children about Nirvana don’t begin with the shotgun shell, his box-shaped heart. Tell them about his childhood. Tell them about ADD, divorce, bipolar disorder. Tell them […]
This poem is a Google Adwords ad intruding into the sidebar of your heart. It’s a 1-800-LAWYERS commercial making you money off your personal injury. It’s a brutal, bloody UFC bout weak in its ground game but knows its Jiu-Jitsu and it’s got you on the mat, begging you to tap out. This poem is FUBAR, a SNAFU waiting to happen. It’s the tear gas America uses against its own […]
Melancholy Hyperbole 