My grandfather diedWhile cutting a shillelagh.He was up an oak treeFor there were no hawthornsIn this new land.He hacked the knobby jointNearly finishing the jobThe wood gave way, he fell,Just eight ...  [+]

My grandfather diedWhile cutting a shillelagh.He was up an oak treeFor there were no hawthornsIn this new land.He hacked the knobby jointNearly finishing the jobThe wood gave way, he fell,Just eight ...  [+]

DCIt's always too hotWhen I visit DCSquinting at the fierce sunDragging my feet fromMuseum to MuseumWalking as if on the bottomOf a glass of warm waterAdmiring our treasuresAnd cursing our climate ...  [+]

On the boast of writer Jack Kerouac, who claimed that he never re-read a manuscript after having once put words on paper, Truman Capote quipped: "that's not writing, that's typing." Oscar Wilde on ...  [+]

We were poor, but hopeful. Two students on scholarships without parental support, dreaming of bright futures. We had not known wealth as children, and our poverty did not oppress us. We married ou ...  [+]