By Glen Armstrong
In my youth I walked the midlands. Oh how I walked, hi-lili. A bird that purrs is a cat. A shadow that fails to shade is just for show like my threadbare rain poncho. I’ll have more on that in a moment. Hi-lili, hi-lo. In my youth I wore Doc Martens bought at the outlet mall in Ohio, hi-lili, hi-lili, hi-lo. What I wanted most was to lower myself to just about anyone’s level.
Glen Armstrong holds an MFA in English from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst and teaches writing at Oakland University in Rochester, Michigan. He edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters and has three current books of poems: Invisible Histories, The New Vaudeville, and Midsummer. His work has appeared in Inverse Journal, Ræd Leaf Poetry India, and Sonic Boom.
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