Wednesday, August 24, 2022
Garbage Time by Chris Butler
that the score
out of reach,
why waste those
focusing on the
when you can
just take the ball
and head home
before the final
Anti-Chris Butler is an illiterate poet. His last chapbook, DOOMER, is available through Ethel. He is also the co-editor of The Beatnik Cowboy literary journal.
That night, a broken axle, sticks inside me, sweet burnt odor of bourbon & Marlboros. Drunk on Wild Turkey, Mama cussed Daddy out, my si...
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Outdoorsman standing beside a mountain stream cracks open a can of BUSCHHHHH . . . Catchy marketing campaign, an attempt to revitalize th...
When I say I can’t remember, it means I won’t tell you why I did it Not in the middle of a crowded emergency room. Not while you’re hugging ...