I wish I didn’t have to know that inside every adult there is a spirit-sized wound that spews like a child’s volcano project creeping into the hallway, like the first zit on my nose that I popped in the mirror and made squirt across the bathroom, because I thought if I could make what was … Continue reading Picking My Nose and Playing With Myself, A Poem by Chris Russell

Once, when I was 6, I was sitting in the woods by my house, when the trees began to care for me. I’m not talking in the literal sense of trees providing oxygen and negative ions kind of care, though there is that breath-swallowing cycle of life to be thankful for. I’m talking in the … Continue reading Some Pretty Generous Rocks, A Poem by Chris Russell

They are closing down the schools again, and the world is in an uproar. Parents worry about losing their jobs, kids are worrying about losing their minds, and with good reason, since isolation and unemployment can bury a future as quickly as a life-threatening disease without a cure and an unenforceable mask mandate can, I … Continue reading Spooning in the Basement Beside a Space Heater, A Poem by Chris Russell