With a notch in his ear from an honor-mad fight And a tail that is shorter than at last sunlight.

But please, don't let me fall into any more smaller pieces than I already have, before I get to kiss someone again and really mean It. I'm pretty sure I've always believed in something more positive than just hate. I've …

REVELATIONS Bobby Coleman hated every part of his job — not just the usual things like meaningless deadlines, unrealistic work loads, and failed expectations; Coleman was done with all of it. Too many years at his nine to five had him convinced he was…

a fat crow rapturously caws over its good fortune... not a morsel left on the street, not even a bloodstain

When they first met at the bar, right away he was sweet on her. He drove an old oil-burning Buick or Olds, going down the road like a smudge pot. He never kept food in his car, where it would get hot and spoiled. He only picked nice fresh

Already past the harbinger of yellow crocus

—mashed potatoes / with emeralds in it—

We were stuck sweating it out on a long suburban plain when you left. Or else we’d mob the one visible hill (in Palos Hills, or Hillside) and turn the televisions on, looking behind us nervously, hopelessly, until every evening became a Wednesday evenin

The funk of wet wool, stinky feet, reeking armpits, stale beer and fried food created a bohemian fetor.

Deciding what is important from the life of a man that you haven't spoken to in ten years was a task that had seemed impossible at the outset. But now, here she stood, having done just that.

The old man tied his black tie and put on a black beret. His bones hurt, but at ninety-two it was to be expected.

Here’s the local group of grumpy gray-haired men Chewing over politics as if it’s important As if their endless discussing of it, Waving their hands in the air, gesturing, Is going to change the world How do these guys stop from having heart a

—but night does not reduce me to sleep / the dragging minutes keep awake / the dark that only opens its deep . . .

As individual as a shadow and the opposite of ‘stone faced’, Sidney Elvin “Ike” Liebowitz, with a clean-shaven face, well kempt hair and sideburns a quarter of an inch off of his ears, walks down a dirty and dimly lit street pondering sneakers.

The darkness isn’t evil but invisible/ in the otherwise excellent light of day