It doesn’t take any particular talent to get laid  Mr. Sayfer proclaims in his unannounced presentation to the 8th grade where we sit...

I read a poem that takes up half the book. There are boys crying in the cornfields of its pages. A living will tucked into the stanzas of...

Shreds of what was once a suit hang tattered from his thin shoulders. Looking like he has walked a thousand miles, he leans against the...

On Going to the Record Store Manned by an indifferent celestial being named Jesse or Manny in flare jeans and a chambray. All gates to...