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I’M SCIENTIFIC
I’m scientific, through and through— I don’t go to church; I love Jeopardy just as much as you. But you are surprised at my patriotic stance towards God. Since I’m elitist and secular, my conservative...
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LOVE HAS NOTHING TO SAY
She desired; I happened to be in her way. She kissed me—looking back, Rosalinda, I’m not sure why. A dog will lick its master, because the dog has nothing to say. The best “last word” is not to say...
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LOVE IS BROUGHT ON BY ITS OPPOSITE
When I was in a rage, specifically against you, Because you insulted the very thing about myself I most admired, And then in the same breath, praised him, for the same quality, I found at that...
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WHEN I ATTEMPTED TO SPEAK
When I attempted to speak On my idea that everything’s a conspiracy I was drowned out by the clique. They insisted that my idea that no idea matters Was conspiratorial and mad; Agreeing with each...
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I CANNOT NOW REMEMBER
I cannot now remember what It looked like, or what you said. Sometimes memory is as fresh as spring And sometimes it falls dead. My great desire for you is only because I am bad at remembering. When...
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THE EXQUISITE EDGAR POE
Edgar Poe was born on January 19, 1809. Poe is a figure of opposites—which is what all successful people are. First, it makes you enigmatic, which is always good, and it makes you enigmatic in a...
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PROSE
I have read prose with haunting ideas, with every semi-colon in the right place: Poetry, with a prose face. I’ve read stanzas which made me laugh As they sank into the paragraph; Sentences, in prose,...
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EVERY POEM HAS BEEN FOR ME
Every poem has been for me, No matter what I say, or do. I was in a crowd, and announced, “This poem is for Rosalinda!” It wasn’t true. It’s not easy to escape one’s poems. As children to their...
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CONFUSION IS NECESSARY
The sheep want to go back, To when Walter Cronkite was the only news. And sure, we want Cronkite to love us, Every smiling dictator knows; And if a dictator frown, Sheep don’t mind it when they put...
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TIME FROM ITS THINGS
I love time, and I time love, when it loves and sings. But time cannot last, Even as time falls into its own past. Can you tell time from its things? My love is not time, My love will not be governed...
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I REFUSE TO LOVE
“You can’t do that” —John Lennon When I refuse to love, I am happy. Why should I love you When you refuse to love? With great pride, I refuse to love, Because so many say they love, But do not love; I...
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NO VICES
I have no vices. I have no habits involving spices. The salt which the villagers lick Was mined in the blue Ran Da. I stroll by the blue Sun River. Wines Could be imbibed by those who go into the...
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J. ALFRED PRUFROCK AND THE RAVEN
I wish I had a loud voice, Then people would have no choice But to listen to me. In a restaurant, Around friends, I would get what I want. My friends, and even those who run the restaurant Would have...
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FAKE PLATO
Why is no poetry which is popular—none of it—deemed critically and artistically worthy? Going on almost 100 years? Or more than 50 years, if we quibble over “critically worthy?” Why is poetry no...
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WHY ISN’T THERE A LOVE WE ALL CAN LOVE
Why isn’t there a love we all can love? Too bad there isn’t a contract we can sign Before we occupy a mortal mind Which says that love must always love As long as bodies live. Unfortunately All we get...
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TO WRITE A POEM
To write a poem, one needs to understand That not for one moment can the reader misunderstand Anything. Obscure is fine, as long as it doesn’t involve misunderstanding. The mist can cover. Hint at...
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THE NEO-CON CON
British warships in the Far East, 1920s A sensitive and historical piece appeared in the Federalist, recently: Are Neocons Really Back In The Trump Administration? A delicate piece indeed, even...
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WHY POETRY SUCKS SO BAD, AND IS POETRY CONTROVERSY DEAD?
My Floridian FB friend Ann Leshy Wood sent me a link to The American Journal of Poetry, a respectable, online, warehouse of mostly distinguished, widely-published, Best American Poetry, MFA-connected...
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XXX POEMS BY RAQUEL BALBONI
Arts & Letters is a new journal—with poetry and nice color reproductions of art, printed in Cambridge, Massachusetts. In the center of the activity around this simple, modest, but essential...
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ADULTERY AND POETRY, OR A BRIEF HISTORY OF THE MUSE
After adultery I wrote better poetry. When I was true, I couldn’t think of a thing to do. Whenever I was dumped, I thought, She has sold what she has bought, And now that she is free, All she loves is...
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