I hold a key to feel its pull, and follow where it leads. Once, because the moment, key, and direction felt so right, I ended up on the streets naked. A police officer threatened me with handcuffs. I laughed, mesmerized by the cuff's clink, their never-ending circles,…

He's kneeling on the floor of his West Village apartment, by the door, asking me to leave. He first said he saw someone once a week. But what he means is that they sleep together every night, as they live together, and spend their Sundays together.

Enumerate the small delights/ this bright first morning

Life is not always quixotic.

Shhhh, my husband is trying to write...

Is every librarian a poet at heart? I don't know, but a group of librarians recently put their heads together and came up with these library-themed Valentine's Day poems: Roses are red Your book's overdue You've had it for months Which is…

I. he leans his messy head against the walland contemplates his wild mistakeshe discovers a nest of red spidersoutside his rotting basement doorhe watches television in his socksand…

Hold your breathThe smoke here is thick, I knowIce underfoot, let it burn, let it go, but don't ask me to take your handYou have never been so patient as to sit and waiteven for the sun to riseWatch, now, here it comescresting over the hill as one large eyeboiling the…

Six months later, she was teaching theology / to refugees from est.

I could have writ­ten her as is with long bushy hair, skinned knees, over­hauls, blue­berry stains on her fin­gers and teeth because she eats them too much. I love her bet­ter this way, blueberry-stained and wild....

He was entirely guilty of what he had done and wanted that to be acknowledged and understood by the arresting officer.

I’m a suicide prevention counselor for teens. Most of the time I answer phones and tell kids not to kill themselves over their boyfriends and girlfriends and drugs and rock ‘n’ roll, etc. I’m not even sure what the number is—1-800-DONT-DIE or something li

We were over Casper, Wyoming, when some terrorists tried to take over the airplane. They had concealed weapons.

My father bouncing his leg to slow rock music with me on one knee, telling me I should keep a special place in my heart for my teeth, to remember where I lose them, on the playground like he did when he was my age, fighting a friend named Bobby-Joe. Or else I could lose…

Our disappearance would register/ as the movement of a sand grain/ on a windy beach full of sand.