In a storefront laundry on North Clark Street brown draperies release this quiet man who has my shirts.
They’re starlets Hollywood has yet to discover, two nice young ladies who assemble sandwiches at the Subway Shop Monday through Friday at noon.
You think you got problems? You probably do but would you trade with Phillip, a Vietnam vet who still thinks Agent Orange lurks in
Should she write about the wonders of nature and say it’s okay to lie on the beach forever without any sunscreen
Inferno of a summer day Mother’s dozing Tommy, tiny, three, paring knife in hand tiptoes out, flops
It’s never what she says always how she says it and how she stands when she says it and what she says
The two weeks I spent in that small town on assignment, I saw no blacks except for two older women regal in every way,
Ten years ago, when they were tykes just in their 70s, Melvin used to tell Emma eat your Wheaties
Old Tim writes poetry now in his heaven of retirement. He’s had nice jobs over the years but swears retirement is better.
Sometimes it helps to learn a relative has died a close relative you haven’t seen in years and didn’t plan to see again because
This morning I woke up early feelin’ good, feelin’ the way I felt 50 years ago, no aches, no pains, can’t wait to shower, hop on the El, go back to work,
She was just an old lady who lived next door. I’d wave and smile and give a nice hello but nothing more.
The longer I live the greater Mar… compared with those who have tried… The man had integrity, guts, ideas… It was heartbreaking in the Sixti… filled with hope for change in Ame…
He publishes poems by writers who find no publishers elsewhere. They suffer rejection and he gives them hope.
Fuzzy wasn’t my cat although I fed him every morning at four o’clock for 10 years. He was my wife’s cat, loved to sit on her lap, be petted, jump down and rub his head against her feet....