by Jess Earl Mama told me that thunder is just the sound of angels bowling. The angel outside my window doesn’t have hands but maybe it just can’t bowl, like how Katie can’t eat peanut butter. The angel doesn’t look like the ones in Mama’s paintings; it looks like a…
by Michael C. Keith Our host declares the party started Toasting all with a tequila shot Glasses are salted and then saluted Everyone gulps and lungs grow hot * Another! he wails as we all recover This is for all who bare their asses We drink his spirits with…