Fightin’ Time
For me, wrestling history is a guidepost for some of my more nebulous memories, as well as a link to some simpler life moments. I always remember wrestling playing some role in those memories, mainly the issues of WWF magazine I was reading. They’re like anchors that make the memories more authentic, and they help validate the trauma that was to come later on in my life.
A Family That Prays Together
Hail Satan! I just joined The Satanic Temple, my 42-year-old daughter texted on a ‘till-that-point typical Wednesday. It stopped me right in the middle of my mid-morning channel surfing.
I thought I had let go of the concept of Satan around the same time I ditched the conservative Protestant faith I was raised in. Leaving the church hadn’t been difficult for me.
Fragments
Grief invades
the thin columns of days. A phone
rings. Tree bark flakes
away. I become
salt on tongue, raw
I’ve Stayed in the Front Yard
My father never drank except at Christmastime, I’ve
never seen a brown bottle drain until I was seven, stayed
at my grandmother’s house and knew the skank smell of alcohol, in
winter where cigarette smoke looks ghostly, the
ash tray a black patch of night, he sat on the steps in front
