The poet was nationally recognized for a lifetime's worth of writings.
Just kidding. Lookee here, hands like rocks.
My hands work okay, but don’t you talk about
that fellow’s head Sully broke a beer bottle on
and killed him dead. At a wedding is what I heard,
he had serious drink in him, that’s the key to the city.
Why he talked so much to you, I don’t know,
he don’t talk much to me or nobody. Talked to you
because, bet on it, he knew you couldn’t just get up
and walk away. You’re a lucky cripple, bet that one.
He’d cut anybody’s throat for a nickel and a smile.
Paris was beautiful and I was young,
a GI who’d never even left Philly,
but we who lived to see it were alive,
and like those girls in cotton shifts
the breeze pawed, I wanted to paw…
You didn’t have to touch to know
how you’d always remember them.
But the camps, our first look inside,
PW's Fall Guide 2014
PW's 2014 College Issue
PW's Music Issue 2014