So here the great man stood, fermenting malice and poems we have to be nearly as fierce against ourselves as he not to misread by their disguises.

I read to the entire plebe class, in two batches. Twice the hall fil… with bodies dressed alike, each to… a copy of my book. What would my shrink say, if I had one, about

Usually I stay up late, my time alone. Tonight at 9o I can tell I’m only awake long enough to put my sons to bed. When I start to turn off lights

for Paul Levitt Be perpendicular… toes avid for the line. Already this description is perilously abstract: the ball and basket are round, the nailhead

The lump of coal my parents teased I’d find in my Christmas stocking turned out each year to be an oran… for I was their sunshine. Now I have one C. gave me,

Think you, if Laura had been Petr… He would have written sonnets all… DON JUAN, III, 63-4 “Where do you see yourself five ye… the eldest male member (or is “mal…

Walking with Jesus the slow, behind the beat. Mr. Resistance. Mr. Ohm, Mr. Exactly Lame. By some reluctance, some restraint, if it be a restraint,

I like divorce. I love to compose letters of resignation; now and th… I send one in and leave in a lemon… hued Huff or a Snit with four on… Do you like the scent of a hollyho…

“First, do no harm,” the Hippocra… Oath begins, but before she might… such balm, the docs had to harm he… It was large, rare, and so anomalo… in its behavior that at first they…

the only parts of the body the sam… size at birth as they’ll always be… ‘That’s why all babies are beautif… Thurber used to say as he grew blind—not dark, he’d go on

Baudelaire: ‘The dead, the poor d… But the dead have no watches, no g… At first not smoking took all my t… a little by little and hour by hou… Per diem. Pro bono. Cui bono? Pr…

Most of the time he worked, a sort… with a purpose, so far as I could… How he got from the dark of sleep to the dark of waking up I’ll neve… the lax sprawl sleep allowed him

Here we picked wild strawberries, though in my memory we’re neither… nor missing. Or I’d scuff out by myself at dusk, proud to be lonely. Now everything’s

A snake is the love of a thumb and forefinger. Other times, an arm that has swallowed a bicep. The air behind this one

I was miserable, of course, for I… and so I swung into action and wro… and it was miserable, for that was… poetry worked: you digested experi… literature. It was 1960 at The S…