The city has been deserted, next Year’s phone book will not include Our last name, nor will any mailbox. There must be some obscure relative...

They work their way across the wide lawn by means of a Frisbee. The thinner man can barely throw, can't catch. He drops the Frisbee and ...

Dying stinks on a cat. His preening has stopped, no longer licking his paws or cleaning his coat. He slinks and crowds toward the milk plate...

A man in a yellow rain slicker rides a three-wheeler loaded with empty plastic crates out toward the oyster beds. Here where the Nauset fir...

          - for my mother The only way to feel back home now is to drive out far Past where the developers have tried to reach Out where the...

          - for Helen Miriam and Nicolette Ruzicka Back then I would walk you down the block, up one more, then turn a wandering left 100 f...

Dump the sand from your boots and check for camel spiders remember to get your uniform from the laundry pay the extra dollar so they get th...

first poem in weeks. the habit is thin now as weather turns against autumn and the male cat sleeps in the blue chair. another literary magaz...

He sneaks out for a cigarette, and when he returns the child is already sliding out of her mother. All he sees are the toes coming free. Thi...

He turns at the Revolution Coffee shop and walks two blocks. Twilight is conducive to a stroll. Even old tenements are gilded. And the brick...

Puttering about his three-room apartment, the old man does little more than tend to the clear floret of a shot glass with his handled jug. A...

          for Stan Barker I don’t write on days when I hear a friend up and dies––too soon and cliché  the roofers pound I expect light fix...

social worker John asked what was it I thought about on the long rides up there he wanted the gory deets the fill in the down and dirty blan...

Outside the church window Leaves tumble down Softly as flurries The leaves don’t know the season Pale yellow against verdant green Sunflowe...

The famous mist had frozen to everything so solidly that it couldn’t be scraped away so we sat hunkered inside the car, shivering with the d...

head protected by a red motorcycle helmet he sports a ragged plaid shirt cutoff jeans and orange flip flops while balancing a backpack holdi...

hang from the leafless branches in slim bunches of brown rattled by the wind they sound like dry bones bumping Sheryl L. Nelms is from Mary...

          - for Beulah and John The window panes are small and dry, with a bubble or two, corners chipped, but sturdy. Through them is th...

Dainty handkerchiefs once secured upon our heads at Mass girls with no hats   small cut glass bowls we dug out of oatmeal boxes ...

Hanging curtains, polishing mirrors, separating rooms from other rooms           that can't be eaten in, dusting,           fluffing p...