Fred Shaw: To the Fuckhead Who Stole My Bike
gunning with the bebop of another
coaster at its last dip, the valves
of your heart opening
and closing without fail
March 14, 2023 · 2 Comments
Fred Shaw: Comfort
Without warning, the busboy died
in his bed after school, the genes of his heart
finished ticking toward failure.
February 21, 2023 · 9 Comments
Fred Shaw: The Toolbox
I search for the red-handled Phillips-head among the clutter of Dad’s Air Force toolbox; the obsolete, English-sized wrenches, the vise-grips and channel locks looking to grasp smooth shouldered bolts with … Continue reading
December 8, 2017 · 1 Comment
Vox Populi 