April is Poetry Month, a painful reminder for some, who suffered under English teachers who made them write about the cherry tree wearing white for Eastertide or “The Love Song of J. Alfred Pruneface” ...

you may be pushing it comparing the best of rap to sonnets: the purpose of the two things is so different that any comparison is surely moot. but i am prepared to say that it is certainly MUCH harder ...

I’d like a word with you about your mother, and I want you to read this column all the way to the end, otherwise I will slap you so hard your head will spin. I realize that Mother’s Day is a fake ...