Ringing in the ears has no cure. It’s called tinnitus and you can pronounce it the way it looks or the way

The last visitor before I sleep is always the old priest puffing up the stairs to my door, a wine cask under each arm, a loaf of pumpernickel in his teet…

Sheep are by a goat while cattle are like swine, prodded, ye… cattle go by hammer while swine are by the hind leg hung then swung about to spigot.

Martin, a very senior citizen, wants to get a bucket and knife and go hunt up some greens in a field in Alabama. But in spite of his yearnings for a big bowl of greens, he knows his wif...

As we know, sometimes we can see the big picture by peeking through a keyhole. And in America today perhaps we can see better the state of innocence among young children by looking at a...

Beautiful fall day in a potter’s field outside a small town. A funeral is underway but that doesn’t stop

After Saturday tennis I came home took a nap and woke up dizzy had trouble walking. My balance was off so I went to bed and slept 20 hours

I look in the mirror and I’m not… Where did I go? I don’t know so I look around and see my wife with the dogs and kids. Not one of them sees me.

Drive around almost any city and you will find the homeless napping on a bench. Folks who drive to church on Sund… often view the homeless as litter

Rudy in his wheelchair gets around pretty good. He has a good job and transportation via a special van. He shops at local stores and everyone is nice except at the drug store where the ...

The bog above Bob Gordon’s bog is where they found the body of an older man floating like a canoe among the lily pads. He was covered with crustaceans.

The story goes Pa met Ma in the city when he drove a truckload of pigs to market. She was the young waitress who served him cup after cup of coffee and gave him three eggs instead of ju...

Although it snowed a little Wedne… Jane’s hyacinths are blooming. And in the yard she saw this morni… 50 robins hopping in the sun. Some flew in couples into trees

After the poetry reading the lights go on and a lady under a big hat rises behind dark sunglasses and asks the poet why

In 1962, I was a caseworker, not a social worker, in the Cabrini-Green Housing Project in Chicago. In that era, the difference between a caseworker and a social worker was simple. A soc...