Just a few hundred years ago/ in the thick green undergrowth/ where the Yanticaw Creek/ meets the wide old Passaic River/ the fish surrendered by jumping/ into hollowed dugout canoes.

YOUNTAKAH COUNTRY - A Poetic View of Nutley, Old and New

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In the new land it will be better.

Sometimes I Swear In Italian

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Being the man of the house carries with it a tremendous amount of responsibility.

Martha Stewart Doesn't Live Here Anymore and other essays

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In August 1999, I tried out for a new job on the eighth floor of Harborside, a Jersey City building fronting the Hudson River with its back to the sprawling city to the west.

Jersey City Snapshots

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Back in the day, our refrigerator's freezer was the size of two ice trays and a pound of chop meat.

Greetings From Belleville - Collected writings

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SITTING IN A DESK DRAWER:

Saving pigeons/ that hit the power line:/ Boil water, a needle and thread.

Saving Pigeons

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Unfamiliar with words and how to stack them/One upon the other in long strings that make sense,/ She asks me how to write a poem,

Writing My Way Home

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You may not know/ to look at them/ but the scavenging seagulls/ circling, whirling overhead/ have a corporate structure.

Hands In Socks

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Everywhere you looked in Grandma's yard you saw cats creeping around.

Chasing the Mosquito Man

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How could anyone, let alone my older sister, move to a state where you can’t get Taylor ham, good veal cutlets or Brookdale soda?

Bula, Bula, Ashtabula

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I never did it on a train before, I’d seen people in movies, they did it on a train or a set supposed to look like a train moving along, as for me, I made it these four decades without ever riding the NYC subway either.

This Seat Taken? Notes of a Hapless Commuter

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First lines based on first-print (and latest draft) editions

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