Poetry
Spring 1998
Vita Brevis
The old man who looks just like my late father cruises the grocery lot for the perfect space, then parks his car and opens its heavy door and slowly emerges […]
Poetry
Spring 1998
Goodyear
One brittle fall dusk near the end of The Year of Bitter Words, he was trying to clear his head by raking the yard hard when he sensed someone, or […]
Poetry
Autumn 1992
The Roof Men
may be drunk, or stoned. They stand atop the library like an indolent frieze, or loll on cornice, chimney pot, and parapet. The bell tower is their time clock, its […]
Poetry
Autumn 1992
Politics
The chairman is washing his dirty hands again and I am trapped here in the handicapped stall as he palms a thin red liquid from the dispenser, looking in the […]