It’s a small backyard I’ve watched for years from an upstairs window while chained to a computer. Whatever the weather
After Yeats and Heaney, you wonder when the new one will come galloping out of Dublin or perhaps from yet another farm
The Sixties almost killed Will, a wasted man who sobered up long enough to vote for JFK. And he’d have voted for RFK if he hadn’t been killed as well.
Perhaps there should be a hard rock band called myasthenia gravis. A rare disease for which there is no cure, MG doesn’t kill anyone right away but unmanaged it’s hard to live with. In ...
The Nazis call her Hilda, this ancient woman who makes a simple living in a bathroom in Berlin giving high colonics
They never held hands when they were a couple young and newly married as much in love as they were planning a wonderful life.
The stench came first, the young man remembers. It was as if someone had grabbed him by the ankles, turned him upside down
She was old already when you had her in 8th grade and she said you should sit in the first seat third row right in front of her for
Joe went to the mall yesterday and found a big tent pitched at the head of the drive. Someone selling fireworks. The sign said discounts
For some nervous wrecks a pill or two might help. For others
Newlyweds cuddle on a bench in their garden. A hummingbird pauses then enters a lily. They make love in public.
The haberdasher has that season of the year he rids his racks, his bins of oddments. I have no season of the year
Two grackles, black birds shiny and iridescent, nest again this year high and deep in our tall spruce.
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.
Sarah makes sandwiches all day, piling meat and trimmings high on pillowy bread she spreads apart before her customers’ eyes. Hardworking men love her sandwiche…