a pad accident
my darkest nightmare confirmed
emptiness outside
disintegration
ghost i worship 4 years on
emptiness inside
only truth ive known
over the wet florida sky
last night in dream died
there’s nothing i can say
in tradition hands are tied
by custom i sit silent
my true love last night in dream died.
I’ve written poetry for years, but had never read it aloud before this weekend. On Friday, I had an event at Esquina Chicago to celebrate
Marking a thrilling pivot from his extensive 16-album Art Rock catalog, Chicago multimedia artist William Steffey—now reborn as the project William Is—delivers “Brycee Bait,” a
There’s something campy and demented about William Steffey’s Hot Rod Stigmata that reminds me of the Butthole Surfers if they could stand still for enough
