I used to think happiness was something you could achieve if you played your cards right all night and didn’t make any bets the dealer wouldn’t make himself, and that once you had it in your blood that it would stay with you like a Lyme disease that keeps sucking from you even after it … Continue reading Long, Windy Fingers, A Poem by Chris Russell

Merry Christmas, world, why not. The elves are on their stupid shelves and looking like a horror movie. But you can’t tell me some little mushroom-cheeked punk showing up unblinking, unexpectedly, each time you turn on a light, even when you’re in the bathroom, the little perv, isn’t twisted, isn’t a big pantaloon-covered and peppermint-striped … Continue reading Peppermint-Striped Middle Finger, A Poem by Chris Russell

My student grabs his reading book off the desk and begins folding and creasing the title page in on itself as if to say he’s shutting down and refusing to talk about it, when it's expected he follows along with the rest of his class. I can’t tell you how many people, children and adults … Continue reading Reading, The Great Evil, A Poem by Chris Russell