May my father let you cower for a while, whimpering, "Please don't shoot me. Please." May he laugh, unload your gun, toss it away; Then may he take you with bare hands. May those hands, which taught ...
the prayer snow. “Bigfoot?” AH ee AH ee AH ee AH . . . Oh well. I knew it wasn’t indifference. Bigfoot was shy “This poem squishes together two scenes from my childhood. If I set out to write about a ...
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