When I was eight I jumped off a roof as if I had a parachute and broke a leg. He was there when I landed,

You think it’s easy, embalming bodies in these nightmares I have every night, bodies a vulture

I turn the porch light on at 4 a.m… to see if a miracle’s occurred and the paper’s landed somewhere in the snow blanketing our lawn. Instead I see a clump on the mat

You were gone when I got home at midnight from a double shift. Now you’re back,

Third day on her honeymoon Sharon asks Butch what it’s like for a man before he gets married. A bricklayer by trade, and a man of few words,

Ten years ago, when they were tykes just in their 70s, Melvin used to tell Emma eat your Wheaties

Evil without we worry about but not so much evil within, parent to evil without. Evil within, once called sin,

It’s a small backyard I’ve watched for years from an upstairs window while chained to a computer. Whatever the weather

It’s not the beach. It’s a lake of fire, if it’s there. That lake we heard about in

I never think about bison. After all, I live in St. Louis, why should I? But when I went hunting for quail in Montana

Wally and Stan neighbors on the same block for 30 years never had a problem until Wally asked Stan over

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.

Bill’s been seeing a therapist for years trying to get his life on track but all he talks about is his many regrets in a life

The editor of the school paper came at the appointed hour and found the old poet in his backyard alert in a lawn chair with a