“I think I can kick a summer’s day’s ass any day. Of any season.”
Author Archives: Tyler Stoddard Smith
At home, my parents, both children of the ’60s, eschewed the "evils" of caffeine in lieu of wheatgrass shakes and soy milk slurpees. However, thrust into my newfound fame, I fell full-bore into the lifestyle.
You pour it all into a poem: your skeleton, your bile, your oozing primordial remnant—your private parts. To be told that the fundamental you is not up to snuff—that’s hard murder.
Perhaps lofting your penis toward a cadre of the Windy City’s finest as they descend on your house is not an ideal defensive maneuver.
The first time I met Allen Ginsberg he peed on my foot. But, that is not the only thing I remember about the vaunted poet of the “Beat Generation.”