"She was like a perimeter guard for an advanced race of beings who looked human but were somehow para-human entities focused only temporarily within this dimension."

I look good Together Got these penny wings I could actually fly with It all becomes so clear Sound goes down Sanity returns in an instant The night is bigger... I’d rather stay near the ground I’m not a practicing angel

rheumy eyes wink, gnarled hands pantomime

...hup hup hup...

He arched an eyebrow.  He was "thinking" — a tricky thing to do, when you never read, even the newspaper.

when the mirror cracks my eyes won't cry it's a perfectly respectable (romance) between her and i

the magic is our making

It’s important to sound Human, I know To get fragile Near your Mother I myself Get glimpses Now & then Once, Eating chicken, staring At the inside Of a muscle Once During a bad thunderstorm While running down the stairs

there is a vault in the mountains / that in itself contains infinite vaults

philanthropy corrugated with a smirk / printed aside every cardboard box and room / every cardboard house with every cardboard door.

two pairs of arms and legs

“I have a theory,” she said on their first date, which was at an Indian restaurant where the music was a lovely singsong but the chef seemed enraged as he clapped a ball of dough between his hands, then threw it into the flames. And her date, whom she…

But what “is” retirement? All of the previous sections in a life are full of detailed descriptions. But “retirement” is somehow left rather vague. One would think that retirement would be the long-awaited GOAL of life. But instead we are left with the

I stroll out to the front lawn, and find myself against the sea of grass, painted daubs within the frame of a distilled rock. My ears attuned to the starlets warbling on the twisted branches of the lone tree, flock of wings that find subtlety and shine in the rapture…

In an authentic Irish pub in Las Vegas where over much crowd noise the three of us are discussing Yeats, Joyce and Lady Gregory. We’re in an Irish pub after all, plus the fact we’re literature profs attending a Vegas academic conference.