I first stumbled upon free hugs at a UIL meet in Round Rock circa 2004. She was a lovely, albeit chubby, young woman riddled with the high school acne that plagued us all. She wore a smile that could light up the darkest poem I heard that day—if I remember rightly, “Daddy” by Plath. I seized the opportunity for a free hug and strove to learn about where such an idea originated. I meant to ask but my desire was quelled by the cushion of her upper arms around my neck and her face pressed intimately against my chest. It occurred to me later that perhaps the hug was not for me, but for her.   “Free hugs” has turned into a bit of a...

I ha’ seen them changing over seasons, Donning darker colors with broken ornaments adorned. Blackened women acting without reason Against youthful dreams, Sharing beds with red-eyed liaisons. Still, they pine for misguided reveries… With legs spread atop sterilized tables, They cry behind heavy eyes, Singing praise for the furies.