I was out of control, spinning on the whirligig of youth, giddy to be caught in what Kerouac called “the whole mad swirl

The hands on the atomic clock upstairs finally stopped spinning. As you know, my dear, the hands have been spinning for two weeks. This morning the clock stopped

Like that broad in an apricot bra hanging over the sill of her tenement window, the sun is over me now, its nectar laughing and falling.

Standing in line behind a father and his little boy waiting to reach the register

Sometimes a person can go too far, Mickey said, two stools over downing another beer,

You think he’d be more grateful. Neither rich nor poor he’s never wanted for anything. He’s always had what he needs but never had any gratitude

A mountain man is Fillmore but there are no mountains where Fillmore lives deep in a hollow. He’s never had a job

You can’t vote for him and you can’t vote for her and you can’t vote for the others you’ve never heard of. The others may not be as odd

Christmas is now the Holidays. But Hanukkah is still Hanukkah and Ramadan is still Ramadan. Easter still has its name. The media needs more time

When the president speaks from the podium and mentions the 20 children shot to death at Sandy Hook by a lunatic with a rifle,

It’s a matter of beans, says Rosie, 79, legally blind, her fingers dancing across a Bible in braille, when a reporter asks her about

A homeless man hangs himself from a tree at night in the city to close out the year. At dawn a passerby uses

For years leprechauns lived under Pop’s fedora. They danced jigs on his head when he wore it and hid in his ears

Should she write about the wonders of nature and say it’s okay to lie on the beach forever without any sunscreen