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UNCLE’S POEM IS HERE SOMEWHERE
Uncle, you are more like my father than I am, And they say you seem more like me than him. They say we are just holograms of projected embarrassment. None of this is real. I was going to write a poem...
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WOUNDS OF LOVE ARE ALWAYS WARM
Wounds of love are always warm, Wounds of love will never close. Love is not a battle or a storm— Oh love is worse than those. The woman is affectionate. This is why she runs away From true love...
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TRUE LOVE IS COMPETITION AND HATE
True love is competition and hate. I got tired of loving what was great And now I love a dull and helpless fool Who understands my rule. I prefer a wooden post To what others love the most. He was so...
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IN FEAR OF DOGGEREL
We recently attended a poetry reading in Harvard Square and we had the great pleasure to hear the world’s greatest living poet, Ben Mazer, read his magnificent poem, “An After Dinner Sleep,” a poem of...
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THE PROBLEM, OF COURSE, IS SEX
The problem, of course, is sex. Here’s what the Trojan war Did: is Helen, the beautiful Greek, Kidnap victim or whore? This is not what peace knows or expects. When you are too humiliated to speak,...
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WHEN LOVE WAS VOLUNTARY
When love was voluntary, And lakes dimmed their mirrors for the moon-lit sky, And twisted trees were planned by twisted vines, I could see, by your whisper, by a few poem’s lines, Whether you were...
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CHEATING
I have never—nor would I ever—cheat on you. You let a small suspicion take root in your mind, where it grew and grew and grew. Christ said we cheat, if we cheat in our mind. Outwardly pure, we can...
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OTHER LIVES
Other lives matter, completely different from your own, Who never send you music on your cell phone, Who never develop secret crushes on you, Who don’t do disgusting things you do, Who never make a...
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MORE ADDICTIVE
Is there a bass line more addictive than heroin? Or a melody that beats all intoxication? Is there a set of eyes So lovely, they are food to the wise? And I, in love, could look at them forever, And...
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1970
It’s 1970. Really. At my parents for Thanksgiving, this year, I looked around in the early morning and the only thing telling me it was 2015, not 1970, was the family cell phones and iPads charging,...
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IT’S EASY TO BE DISAPPOINTED
It’s easy to be disappointed by the life of the mind. Too much thought can make the body absolutely blind. But come with me, and I’ll show you how Imagination can make me love you now Who hated you...
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YOU’RE JUST SAYING THAT
To love someone is torture Because we worry about the future— This moment not big enough to contain our love; This moment too small to contain wanting someone Again and again and again. When I talked...
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POETRY AND FEMALE BEAUTY
To some, probably to many, if not all, this topic of “poetry and female beauty” might seem just a silly exercise, a vain excuse to draw nonsensical and vain conclusions of the most deluded and pitiful...
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SINCE SHE WON’T BE WON
Since she won’t be won, I’ll win the world. And when the world understands me, It will be okay that she has banned me, This woman, pretty and silly like a girl Who I loved. If the crowds shout,...
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I MISSED YOU ON THE TRAIN
No, not to die, But to sleep, forever, With a restless, curious eye Staring aghast at dreams! More real than life and pain— People and things I saw, I see, again. The only real that’s real is the real...
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YOU PRODUCE NO BEAUTY
You produce no beauty, But are the beautiful one; A flower without a seed, A want without a need, A cold and cunning sun. You make a lovely picture, In high-heels and black-brown hair— But that’s a...
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OUTSIDE
The design of outside— The lake perfectly flat And the sky—how does it create distance like that?— Diminishes my poems’ pride. The tiny houses, with breakfast inside, And the morning news, these...
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I WAS THE POET
You brought your body to the table. I brought romance and poetry. You didn’t want to, or maybe you were not able To utter a single line of poetry. You never made up anything resembling poetry. You had...
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WHAT IS LOVE?
To not get trapped in words, words which inhibit love, Focus on the picture, and do not say her name, For many people know it, and they will use the same Syllables that belong to her, and they, too,...
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WE ALWAYS REJECT THE GOOD (A CHRISTMAS POEM)
, You seriously think it’s the bad you’re deflecting And that you never find the good you’re expecting, But if the world and yourself were truly understood, Surprise—you spend your life rejecting the...
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