Poet Laundry

  What I remember about the Fourth of July, 1989.   The jar of cocktail sauce bouncing out onto the floor when I opened the refr...

  That blue guitar I had when I was young is gone now, frets and strings pulled back to another time.   I remember the burning...

Joan Jett on cassette softball summers of field-dirt-crusted scabs on my knees and thighs sliding into second my dad said I...