Actually, old boyfriend poems could serve the purpose of getting you used to those chintzy polite slips, barely an eighth of a page, that say thanks but your poems aren’t worth so much as a quarter sheet of rejection. Continue reading

When I sit down to write poems, which isn't often enough, I like to prime the pump by reading poems that inspire me, that have playful rhythms that stick in my head like a songworm. Continue reading

This was the sloping kitchen floor. Any water spilled from the sink would collect in the hall across the room. This was the cold closet, the pantry, where Mr. Van Sickle, a 19th century owner and short man, fell into the pickle barrel during a party and drowned. Continue reading

If I were Mother Theresa’s image -- and I am not – I think I really would inhabit that Dorito. Continue reading

May this year bring you all blessings. If you have to change your passwords, may it be for a new love, not the death of an old one. May you answer a resounding "yes" when asked if you’d like to switch childhoods with your kids, and be parented by your wise, kind self. Continue reading

Am I that white that my all-time favorite rock star has no appeal for black Jerseyans? Is there something wrong with me for loving something that doesn’t seem to be loved universally? Continue reading

Reports of the death of the 2010 Dodge Poetry Festival were blessedly premature. Newark has stepped in to host the event. Hooray! Continue reading