The last visitor before I sleep is always the old priest puffing up the stairs to my door, a wine cask under each arm, a loaf of pumpernickel in his teet…

The mug of tea I drank at dawn, the tea that drove me to the train needs a refill.

Spider in the sink this early autumn morning swirls in a whirlpool Donal Mahoney

Rhoda, I can’t say why Amanda was picked and not Tiffany for anchor of our Nightly News. I interviewed both because Mr. Smith wanted

Sometimes an egg comes out of a chicken Sometimes a poem comes out of a title Sometimes a chicken

Inferno of a summer day Mother’s dozing Tommy, tiny, three, paring knife in hand tiptoes out, flops

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

Every evening, up in my rooom, I try to finish a poem but Chicago is hot and it’s better outside,

After World War II before television, before women had tattoos before men wore earrings, I was a child in a world

The other day I was talking to a neighbor who said he has found a way to help the poor and improve our environment simultaneously. It’s no secret, he said, that we have a dire food shor...

Some never hear of him and likely never will— pygmies in Africa, aborigines in Tasmania, the indigenous in South America.

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

I found an old friend in a cardboard box in the basement where I left him forty years ago.

Three sisters single in their 40s gather 'round the fire on a night of thunder to figure out which sister

Walt told the cops later his moods come and go like crows on the high wire above his art studio. They land in a swoop,