watch us pirouette prima donnas of the air multiplying until the brown grass becomes a patchwork quilt of many colors rake us in your sleep you’ll never be rid of us aim the blower at us we spiral into the… Read more ›

it’s easy to pretend there’s nothing wrong that you simply slept too long drank too much last night that a cold is coming on that it’s your losses in the market or the somber winter morning that oppress you  … Read more ›

Propelled by last night’s heavy rains, the leaves pirouette to the ground, blanketing the brown sere grass in a quilt of many colors, clogging the downspouts, filling in the tunnels the moles had dug out in the spring.   A… Read more ›

you started as a humble shepherd fed the poor and soon became the patron saint of cooks and kitchens but absent-minded as I am I know you best as the finder of lost things I´ll do a little dance for… Read more ›

He planted the roses in the wrong season, deceived by the string of balmy days into thinking spring had come. He churned up the soil and mixed it with peat moss and bone meal. He laid down a two inch… Read more ›

I’m sick of all your sophistry your stories of how suffering somehow ennobles the spirit your assurances that we’re your chosen people. Chosen for what – the camps? OK you created death as the price we paid for knowledge as… Read more ›