At breakfast my microwave appears to heat, electrons clearly humming; container, though, remaining cold, oatmeal cooling rapidly.

To coda played by lonely whippoorw… A tiny cottage dons its dusk-dark… And snuggles into undulating hills… Its chimney twisting just a curl o… To prove there’s life within these…

Academic Editors I hate the callow ones who think t… And have therefore the right to cr… I hate the ones who charge me twen… So I can try to win a ten-buck pr…

His Hobby Our Mr. Hughes, retired, was exce… At working wood, and every Yule h… A creche —cut plywood forms to rep… The cast, especially Jesus, whom…

At a photo op outrageous beyond be… Bush does a little jig between two… back from Iraq with artificial leg… (Oh, you victims, you crippled sac… if only one of you had leaned on…

Savage Customs Dakota Indians placed a seed insi… The mouths of those they buried, a… A small but sturdy seedling gratif… The tribe, new life ascending from…

Academic Editors I hate the callow ones who think t… And have therefore the right to cr… I hate the ones who charge me twen… So I can try to win a ten-buck pr…

The plank is narrow, more narrow than when he started; he could slip off at any time. The wood is slick, too, threatening again a premature plun…

The Rest Home Bus Arrives at th… I love these ladies. No, I’m not a new kind of pervert… I love them because they persevere… because they have guts.

The trunkless legs* ignored detrit… motion rolling on the trunk the fa… and a second ago the amorphous hul… rolling on blowing away the greeks… christ off the mount tearing him o…

Tracing writhing streams, circling alpine wastes, tickling out a finger nudged between two behemoths, the crooked ring completed at last

The Golden Yoke On this, our fiftieth, we find We’re Siamese twins conjoined by… To share all things of heart and m… Like blessings, curses, smiles and…

Graal “Fritz” Braun Two Little Ironies* A Seed Dakota Indians placed a seed insi… The mouths of those they buried, t…

Give Me More Light Give me more light I’m getting desperate here, you kn… show me what you’ve got is Ann Landers still around?

Just off a country road a balding… Reclines in spring upon a pinkish… Of dogwood, which on any better da… Supports, at least in poems, a “fe… Or, worse, that “lifts to God its…