I knew that James Whistler was pa… but I was still surprised when I… of his mother at the Musée d’Orsa… among all the colored dots and mob… of the French Impressionists.

There are many that I miss having sent my last one out a car… sparking along the road one night,… The heralded one, of course: after sex, the two glowing tips

Some days I put the people in the… bend their legs at the knees, if they come with that feature, and fix them into the tiny wooden… All afternoon they face one anothe…

I ask them to take a poem and hold it up to the light like a color slide or press an ear against its hive. I say drop a mouse into a poem

Sometimes the notes are ferocious, skirmishes against the author raging along the borders of every… in tiny black script. If I could just get my hands on y…

You are the bread and the knife, The crystal goblet and the wine... —Jacques Crickillon You are the bread and the knife, the crystal goblet and the wine.

Smokey the Bear heads into the autumn woods with a red can of gasoline and a box of wooden matches. His ranger’s hat is cocked

You are so beautiful and I am a f… to be in love with you is a theme that keeps coming up in songs and poems. There seems to be no room for vari…

The whole idea of it makes me feel like I’m coming down with somethin… something worse than any stomach a… or the headaches I get from readin… a kind of measles of the spirit,

This is not bad— ambling along 44th Street with Sonny Rollins for company, his music flowing through the soft… of these earphones,

Today we woke up to a revolution o… its white flag waving over everyth… the landscape vanished, not a single mouse to punctuate th… and beyond these windows

As sure as prehistoric fish grew l… and sauntered off the beaches into… working up some irregular verbs fo… first conversation, so three-year-… enter the phase of name-calling.

It seems these poets have nothing up their ample sleeves they turn over so many cards so ea… telling us before the first line whether it is wet or dry,

The Wind is ghosting around the h… and as I lean against the door of… I begin to think about the first p… how quiet he must have seemed the… as the others stood around the fir…

And I start wondering how they ca… If it was congenital, they could b… and I think of the poor mother brooding over her sightless young… Or was it a common accident, all t…