This morning, with a high of seventy degrees in the forecast, amazing for a November in Chicago, I drove the dog to Warren Park. That's where we go for a special treat instead of our usual neighborhood walk, because the...  read

I make it my general practice not to drink and write. At least, I try not to drink when writing fiction, where the prose should be clear and lucid as water, even as it refracts the light. But poetry's a...  read

Squirrels chasing each Other up and around trees Like on Benny Hill  read

I have no illusions of immortality Or do I? The way I shovel known poisons into my mouth Shout motherfucker at drivers who cut me off The way I still haven't put up the smoke alarms, two years later The...  read

if       poop then       scoop  read

Earlier from the second-story deck I caught a glimpse of the gate slamming shut as Ella chased someone out of the yard. Her wild barking was what had summoned me. The thunk of something landing solidly on the wooden deck...  read

This morning in the back window of the car I found a ladybug bleached bone-white and fragile under the glass, like a tiny skull. With eyespots faded almost to nothing, blinded by the sun, it was as if the creature...  read

Let me tell you a story. This morning I was out walking the dog, who, honestly, can be a grouchy pain in the ass. But today she was pretty good. It was clear and cold, being October, and we had...  read

sleeping puppy feet pressed against my human toes twitch in doggish dreams  read

Snowflakes ride updrafts in Brownian reels outside my twelfth-floor window.  read