Dear Proofreader
You’re right. I meant “midst,” not “mist.”
I don’t know what I was stinking,
I mean thinking, soap speaks intimately
to my skin every day.
As Fire, My Father
My father as fire melts December snow
with each step he takes through a Pennsylvania field.
But there is no field there is no snow
Trump Says My College Town Has Immigrants Who Are Eating Their Pets
We used to dance at the Regency Room in downtown Springfield on some
Thursday nights on Fountain Boulevard, all of us getting a ride
from whomever had a car and would take us there.
Life Lessons from an Anxious Cheerleader
Today, I was that flyer. They threw me
Into the air. They were supposed to
Catch me in a cradle, but it was the track
That caught me instead—hard, ice cold
As it met my shoulder and my cheek.
Money Ghazal
Easy new habits—gain weight, lose money.
Mamma said, Don’t wed for love. Choose money.
Life is suffering, Buddha taught. He’s right.
Which brings more comfort—a hug? Booze? Money?