Author: admin

She’s crocheting
twenty-seven scarves
for her fourth-graders
so they can learn a little
about love

Owl pictures from my brother, pictures I have taken,
more than enough to cover all the walls–these I will
keep, the others, maybe I will ask you
to take them to the dump.

In the dead of winter
deep in a snow bank
salty mittens, salty treasure
line the crevices of my pocket

in the middle of our lives
most do not ask the old-man question:
why have I lived so long?
And few desire
his narrow answer:
a little cabbage, less beer.

They are so often the first to go We can never be sure How it happens A few shatter in a tipping Or when being shipped To Xanadu or San Simeon Some come undone Simply for having been Too delicately fashioned And some just stay...