Even when Death inhabits a poem, he does not own it. He is a squatter. In fact, Death owns nothing. – Todd Moore
Where Have You Gone, Crazy Al? Crazy Al, he limps faster down the sidewalks of my youth some say he may have been a veteran the sun in the sky by the church and manicured lawn past the old Catholic Continue reading jake st. john | where have you gone, crazy al?
Crazy Al, where are you buried? I wonder to myself on this bright afternoon where do they bury the bums that everyone knows by first names Crazy Al, everyone greets him with a smile and a “how ya doin pal” Continue reading jake st. john | crazy al, where are you buried?