Poetry
A boy had stopped his car To save a turtle in the road; I was not far Behind, and slowed, And stopped to watch as he began To shoo it off into the undergrowth — …
Wanda Sykes made a joke about leaving her vagina at home so she could go out safely at night. Think of it. Taking away their greatest weapon, hiding it in a jewelry box lined with …
It’s Saturday night and all the heterosexuals in smart little dresses and sport coats are streaming into what we didn’t know was the hottest spot between Las Vegas and LA. Janet and I are in …
Smokey the Bear heads Into the autumn woods With a red can of gasoline And a box of matches. His hat is cocked At a disturbing angle. The moonlight catches the teeth Of his smile. …
Old age does not happen slowly but all at once, in the head. The body takes its time getting there, but the mind, clinging to youth flashes suddenly — behaving as if it were still …
Jazz is there and gone. It happens… That simple. — Keith Jarrett Scent of Shalimar, perfume from my youth. No one wears it anymore, but someone does tonight and it’s a jazz smell — sultry …
I watch as he tells a woman that her dead mother is on the other side, happy and safe, and the woman is smiling and teary eyed a little and so so pleased and then …
“Why do you wait at your door, woman, Alone in the night?” “I am waiting for one who will come, stranger, To show him a light. He will see me afar on the road And …
Had he and I but met By some old ancient inn, We should have set us down to wet Right many a nipperkin! But ranged as infantry, And staring face to face, I shot at …
Music I heard with you was more than music, And bread I broke with you was more than bread; Now that I am without you, all is desolate; All that was once so beautiful is …
I have been informed that in New York City, At the corner of Broadway and 26th Street, Every evening during the winter A man solicits money from those passing by So a few homeless souls …
All night I wrestled with a memory Which knocked insurgent at the gates of thought. The crumbled wreck of years behind has wrought Its disillusion; now I only cry For peace, for power to forget …
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever: Its loveliness increases; it will never Pass into nothingness; but still will keep A bower quiet for us, and a sleep Full of sweet dreams, and …