Sparrow

Sam

There was a scarecrow named Sam. He lived in a field of corn, with no shelter from the sun and snow. He wore an old felt hat — gray — and a faded black suit jacket.

The Heavenly Smile Studio

Eddie thought. “And does The Man With No Head ever go to the photographer?” “Yes.” “And when the photographer asks him to smile?” “He spreads his arms.”

My Life In Marketing Research

When I returned from Denver to Manhattan last fall I needed a job. My first idea was to be one of those guys who sit on boxes outside discount stores on Dyckman Street watching that no one steals plastic coat hangers — but all those positions were filled. My next plan was to be Santa Claus.

Proverbs

An orange can’t be too round. / At night milk is black. / The first wife remembers everything. / The tall perspire first.

Three Cities

A dozen men sit in comfortless plastic chairs staring at the floor. No one speaks. No one moves. Sunlight pours through yellow blinds into a room without time. It is clear that one is among the damned.

Selected Poems

The Match

There was a woman with one desire: to win a tennis game with God. She invited God to play tennis. God agreed and they set a date: Saturday, March 3.

Letters From The Road

Greetings from the Laundry Basket, or more accurately THE LAUNDRY B SKET, a laundromat in Austin. The tall and weathered man next to me has been listening to Talk Radio: an anti-pornography Texan made the shrewd point that cigarettes can’t be advertised on TV. Then time ran out.

Meanwhile

At 10 a.m. Saturday, April 9, the Felt Forum was like an enormous party. Thousands of people were standing around talking. Me and Eddie passed a man doing a crossword puzzle. Waiting to see Krishnamurti, doing a crossword puzzle!

Selected Stories

There was a turtle named Arnold who went to college. He studied carrying heavy loads and going without water. He graduated with honors as a camel.

My Time

I can’t understand why things don’t suddenly turn into other things. Why doesn’t my knife turn into a candle, my toaster into a snake? Why don’t the lightbulbs turn into women?

Selected Stories

A Zen monk and a Catholic priest were walking along a road. They came to a baby crying by the side of the road. The monk did nothing. The priest picked up the baby and held it in his arms. The baby stopped crying, and soon the mother came and took it from the priest.