(George Meredith advised Thomas Hardy to fill his novels with bizarre and exciting people and events. Subsequently, Hardy in an early novel had a person following a person following a ...

Gimme That Ole-Time Religion I As one New Yorker said, the guy w… You in New York, your wallet as h… At least has goals, unlike the oth… Who kill and maim and have no aim…

A Teacher to a Boy with a Center… While you turn red at my approach,… Your nails and shift your eyes abo… Attempting all the while a saving… I play the teacher’s role: I set…

To men an infant’s mostly irritati… But his libido often seems impress… By females features favoring procr… The pelvis flared, the heavy sway… And thus, some women, knowing what…

The Jacaranda in Spring (Near Rhyme) What discount art inspired this ta… Eleven months a year you’re quite… Too dark and gaunt, we thought, to…

“Saint Chris’s statue on my dash Will surely keep me safe,” he said… But then one day he struck a pole And hit the dashboard with his hea… Oh, woe! Six-inch Saint Christop…

The Domestic Life of the Elephan… Elephants, Lawrence wrote,** let love bloom slowly “in their vast shy hearts.” But Lawrence dreamed.

Believing garbage cans are scandal… When battered, making us seem decl… My wife delivered firm commands, a… I threw away a garbage can today. And then a thrilling thought occur…

I am a horse, a patient, plodding hack harnessed behind a chromed cart — a cart I push when told to go and stop when told to whoa.

Relativity at the foundry Behold the scene at the iron works Where whirls of girls and harried… Surround the boss, a man of vision… Who, visualizing a new division,

Just off a country road a balding… Reclines in spring upon a pinkish… Of dogwood, which on any better da… Supports, at least in poems, a “fe… Or, worse, that “lifts to God its…

Thoughts on Cloning Someday the labs will make routine The methods used to clone me. But when my own’s an irksome teen I fear I might disown me.

The Star See that star that now appears To glisten in the sky? It took perhaps a million years For it to reach your eye.

,The Honky-Poet Blues (With apologies to Bessie Smith) I’m sittin’ at my keyboard almos’… I say, I’m sittin’ at my keyboard… The wife want rent money,