You find old poems in the attic in a box with the Remington Rand you wrote them on in the Sixties before computers were born. They were published then in little
Gramps knows a minister who collects classic Corvettes. He rents another garage whenever he buys another Corvette. He says his estate will sell the c…
Easter Brunch is a big deal in the metropolis where Fred lives… Restaurants run their ads Ash Wednesday through Good Frida… Years ago brunch began at 11
The others, of course, are more ra… but less apt to show it. Whenever I strike, I never romp o… I stand with the wrist that I’ve… from the lady locked in my teeth
“Tell Pablo I cannot see!” says the man in the Picasso painti… as I pass by, program in hand. The man has a hairy nose where each of his ears should be.
Snow on Christmas Day. As I walk out with bird seed birds cry Santa’s here. Donal Mahoney
Thirty years I’ve lived in Missou… with its major threat for an earth… So far no problems but experts say the big one could arrive any day. California’s lovely but with its q…
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...
Bill hates to go to parties but he loves to go to wakes. One of the advantages of being old, he says, is that there are fewer parties to go to but a lot more wakes. At parties he finds ...
Even as a child Charles couldn’t forgive other chi… not for something they had done but rather for who they were. They were inferior and couldn’t he…
It’s many miles from easy to the e… For some, the end is dawn. For ot… the nightfall of imbroglio because the end depends upon your ticket and every ticket’s punched one-way…
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 problem doesn’t lie in not knowing. It lies in our not seeking him because when we die we meet him and we’re blinded by
Sleet on the turnpike in the middle of the night but I keep driving, both hands on the wheel, nowhere to pull off,
I have a friend, old and retired, who keeps busy helping the poor. Let’s call him Ted because he wants to remain anonymous. Some of his ideas, he says, wouldn’t make many of his neighbo...
