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

There are poems everywhere but you have to find them, a teacher told my class long ago. I was a kid sitting at a desk, cowlicks sprouting from my scalp,

It’s not good when two disturbed p… with little in common disagree by… on something important. Tone and content can get raucous and make matters worse because eac…

In St. Louis young blacks carry guns like cell phones and use them often to shoot each other, as we read in the daily paper

The old man crossing the street has a bad limp we try to ignore. No one wants to look

Forget the fall equinox. Fall arrives when all the moths that dance on summer nights around the porch light disappear when the first cold dawn appears.

It was the first time that senators had been asked to go home and address parent-teacher meetings at all the middle schools in their states. Each had been given a sheet of talking point...

Her corded belt python tight around a tiny waist makes her blooms bigger brighter as they unfold

Next to me on the train going home to the suburbs is another guy stuck in a suit reading his paper, a normal-looking guy

I wish he had never come out from behind the stove, that spider I stepped on at 4 a.m. He was a big one bothering no one.

So this Mick on the next stool, who’s as serious as Yeats but looks like Wilde, stares at me, with eyes crossed,

He asked and so I told him. The “cancer” poems stem from cancer in the family. Daughter’s terminal. Son’s a five-year survivor.

The haberdasher has that season of the year he rids his racks, his bins of oddments. I have no season of the year