A man in a Chicano Batman shirt punched a wall. It was a big wall built by a small man. The man in a Chicano Batman shirt didn’t have gloves on as he punched the wall. His fists were like bronze statues. He gave the wall a couple jabs. He gave the wall a right cross. An uppercut. He stepped back and sized up his opponent. Nothing but hate and greed. He swung one last power punch and the wall fell down like a glass house. The wall fell down. Fell down. The wall. The.
was born in Anaheim, California. He holds degrees in English and creative writing from the University of California, Berkeley, and Antioch University Los Angeles. His poetry and prose poetry appears in The Best American Nonrequired Reading, Green Mountains Review, Huizache, The Journal, Los Angeles Review, New American Writing, Pleiades, The Progressive, Rattle, Whiskey Island, Witness, and other journals. Gigantic Sequins and Parcel have nominated him for the Pushcart Prize. He has served as an editorial intern for Floricanto Press, and poetry editor for Lunch Ticket.
