By Alex Z. Salinas
There was once a writer who killed so many folks in his stories that he got the idea to try it himself. He was a paranoid type so it took him months of planning. He accomplished his task; cleanup was a doozy. Beyond that I can’t say more. He discovered for himself that life’s cheap. He changed his name to Larry Rios and stopped writing fiction. He began writing persona poems about a sword-swallowing frog named Yuks. Larry, a divorcee, felt liberated about his transformation to poetry. He knew nobody took Chicano poets too seriously. Good. He kept his profile low.