My Blog

Some thoughts about that: if not in an opera house then here under the girders of a new civilization in which the contemplative norm is that of a cheeseburger with a face full of sesames.  McCheese is one's neighbor and mayor, and his clown same-sex partner is a cook of sorts, and I guess a lot of people go there.  I have to admit I stopped years ago.  The fried fish sandwiches were about all I

Squished kitty.  Holstein kitty.  She was the only one marked as she was.  Calico I suppose with all the orange hid somewhere. I couldn't see.  So she was a black kitty with white patches or a white kitty with black patches depending upon how you thought.  First thing to greet you at 10th and Mason.  How do you know when you're home?  Look for the dead cat.  Bam.  You're home.

Michael Carrino holds an M.F.A. in Writing from Vermont College. He is an English lecturer at the State University College at Plattsburgh, New York, where he is co-editor and poetry editor of the Saranac Review. His publications include Some Rescues, (New Poets Series, Inc.) Under This Combustible Sky, (Mellen Poetry Press) and Café Sonata, (Brown Pepper Press), Autumn's Return to the Maple

Flame skunks. They is a problem to most home owners, be all they don't know it though. Pesky little fellers, git in your basement and start feedin off the lint of most furnace filters. You can tell 'em by their plumpish skunk bodies, but they's head's just like a gas broiler with the flames all lit and lickin up the sides like whispy blue whiskery cheeks. Natural fire hazards. Burnt up a

 

My socks look beat, slung on the chair.

I put them through a hell of a lot today

on the eraser end of me, walking