My son’s cleaning up his room and I’m not really glad. He’s cleaning up his room and it’s raining clothes and crock… The washer’s running amok, the dis…

Fay Zwicky wrote in her journal o… “I see the poet as a seismograph o… I had considered more arcane expre… over the years, such as the poet a… but I rather prefer to think of my…

My alternative mother kept pace only with Jesus. With a generosity of spirit —unmatched in my life— she adopted me into her family,

The smoking, crackling and burning of recent times, the destruction suggested by some to be the work of God in judgement, has been repl… now, with an answer to prayer, som…

The flower in the whisky bottle beckons me, kindly as a guru, a Buddha, a pink fleshed lover. I open the door behind the whisky…

Would I be handsome in baggy red… and red and blue makeup? Would I be more, if I were to be… except for the blowing of a horn? Would I be understood better usin…

The day started breathing gently on the drapes you breathed on my naked shoulder

What road are we travelling? What road do we wish to be on? Is this the road to heaven, passing through the Valley of Dea… or the road to hell with the desti…

My old mate wears a tuxedo, or so they say, and he speaks in a voice so small that’s smaller than the mice he never hunts

The kookaburra is laughing in the… and I’m deciding to view him as th… that appears in the song I learned… —!!— rather than the annoying jackass t…

Seattle taught me that there’s val… that hovers in the air like an am… with no substance, playing harmle… on your face and in your hair. Seattle taught me that there’s imm…