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ESCAPING THE SHADOW OF NIXON
The long shadow of Richard Milhous Nixon still defines America’s hip Left v. awkward Right. The battle has been going on for almost 200 years and still rages: The United States of America versus...
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WHEN YOUR EVENING IS MINE
Where has the sun been tonight? Shining in your eyes. I sleep, you wake. You sleep, I wake. You and I are only what the internet spies. Our lives are broken by a place. I move where stars do not see...
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NOTHING IS FAR AWAY
In the middle of December, the long, dark tunnel of the holidaysYawns before us, and we think the new year is far away.But nothing is far away. December will be over before we know it.Next week, in...
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IN THE OCEAN
In the ocean, winter is the same as spring.Crustaceans scuttle; whales float and sing.Outdoors, my winter kills, But not this comfortable world, which the tide fills.The ocean puts its misty armAround...
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THE SPY AND THE CHEAT
The spy and the cheatKnows more than you.They collect friendsWith reckless abandonIn a manner which surprises you.You cannot competeWith all they know—the spy and the cheat.They converse with...
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TO ME, MOZART
To me, Mozart concerti are more ChineseThan the Chinese: for hours my phone is playingThis steady propaganda—I have no idea what Mozart is saying,The busy industry of Mozart’s concerti overwhelm me,So...
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I DIDN’T WRITE THIS
The light played tricks on my bed—I imagined a fairy tale in which the fox livedBut many others fell dead,Or were entranced in another part of the storyAnd the grandmother wasn’t even sorry.The window...
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SHINE
Her eyes shine with confidence—She knows they will make fun Of her confidence in God—We must be professional; oneIs either talented or odd.But the odd who are oddly happyAre sometimes talented,...
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A SUNNY DAY
To avoid ideologyWe focus on the personal, and feelings,And kindly ask what the other person needs.Be wary of ideasWhich the conspiracy theory breeds.Even thoughts are suspect—Thoughts fly to the...
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WHAT DOES MY POEM MEAN?
What does my poem mean? There are sufficient shadowsAlong the boulevard to make all visits hidden.My images do not need that question, even if questionsLurk in the background among the sighs.Here is a...
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i try to write a prose poem
I try to write a prose poemBut everything I write descends into rhyme.You wish to converse—I just want to have a good time.You want to sit down and talk to me.No, I’d rather write poetry.I can’t help...
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EVERYONE SEEMS
12/25/2020 Everyone seems to be sleeping late this Christmas morning—strange weather today: warm, windy, as if change were coming, as 2020 hurries to its indoor conclusion. I can imagine most...
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THE SUN IS COLD
The sun is cold.The invading clouds are warm.Sleep under the clouds of the south—The air of the south is roaming now.Sleep. There is nothing to fear.Awake with worry will do you harm.The cloudy south...
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THERE ARE MYSTERIES
There are mysteriesPsychologist, scientist, and poetCannot ignore—But are helpless before,Not because it is not what they do—These mysteries afflict them moreBecause it is precisely what they do—And...
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I NOTE WITH JOY
I note with joy my daughter is careless,And bosses her boyfriend around;He is handsome, but she is not impressed;And so this paradise I found—Knowing my daughter will be happyAnd never suffer a broken...
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WHAT POETRY IS NOT
Seeking information on the roseI studied her in books of prose.When the artificial rage abatedI found my rose domesticated.I could not find her in the wood.In a glass, by a curtain, she stood.The one...
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MY IRANIAN GIRLFRIENDS
They were half-radical, smoked occasionally,And hated to be interrupted—just like me.I had read things—bragged I knew the State Department fix,Knew the Ayatollah was really MI6.My Iranian...
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BORED
I was bored into enlightenment,I eased myself into treasured sleep.Boredom produced long dreams.I’m bored. But you think I’m deep.I watched the fire sleepJust to start it up again—I wait for your...
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I KNOW WHAT THE YEARS CAN DO
I know what the years can do—And I have guessed what they’ve done to you.I loved you more than everything; your nameWas my definition of fame;I still freeze when I see—In ink: Clarissa Botticelli.I...
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LIFE IS LAYERS
Life is layers: Faith, first, Keeps away the worst— Flux, which destroys All hope. The random chaos of the odd Would drown us, if not for God. The odd reigns in so many places— The speaking human...
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