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The Village wasn’t really a village. No walnut trees. Just cut flowers.

Einstein postulated that space and time sit neatly on the same fabric

my grandparents lay in a room listening to their legs rub together

You come hot, marching between one blazing Arab & one crazy Jew.

Having a sister or a friend is like sitting at night in a lighted house.

“I always arrive late at the office, but I make up for it by leaving early.”

This is a crafty story and things are not what they seem to be.

Mother had always told me that everybody loves a self-absorbed ass.

A man drunk on the damage he made to a boy’s young mouth.

My dear, even my ear is trying to eat itself in its attempt to forget you.

“How is it fair that you know who I am but I have to guess about you?”

The hut was cluttered with the skulls and bones of small animals.

I understood that life could end without warning, even young lives.

I cradled the lifeless bird in my hand and marveled at its beauty.

Is there some one way a guy should be on his wedding day, dickwad?

The sedan clipped their front bumper and pitched Bill’s car into a slide.

It could be our baby. Her eyebrow, its perfect arc, the pale blue vein.

It was here—over the highway—where my mother got confused.

Que voulez-vous? I said. Patisserie, she said and smiled. Pastry, I said. Well, that’s predictable.

I knew in the dream that I was a condor in the shape of a girl.

It will be years before the kids see us as real people, not just as parents.

How can we go on believing each day won’t be the one that flames out?

The Renaissance mastered the illusion of depth on a flat plane.

In the seventies a skier’s mettle was measured by the length of his skis.

I didn’t want to start a poem with night where there should be a name.

Death is our common ancestor. It doesn’t care who we have dined with.

Grandfather advised me: learn a trade. I learned to sit at a desk.

You’ll learn to love the spoil, the apple’s softest flesh, the bruise.