Poems

"Originality is undetected plagiarism."  William Inge Tonight the full moon, that old fooler burns orange as it rises over the valley honest with shadows, then yellow with light borrowed from the more gifted sun. The moon is stone cold, with nothing to give but the...

At night upon my pillow, A featherweight of fear, I look ahead to future, And find it drawing near. I drift into oblivion upon a sea of sleep, Time stops upon the wave crest, Time sinks into the deep, And on this timeless ocean, The clock and I both rest. The moments...

I look up at Apollo’s moon with droll psychology. How can a moon that’s walked upon be free of lunacy? 1969

The early a.m. El zigs and jerks among bricked lives. The rocking car is cramped with sixty single people sitting, standing within walls of human silence. Across from me, a woman from a long way off or from people a long way off sits with nearly naked feet, the soft...

NOTE: This poem was written in 2011, posted on PBT 9/2015 but continues to be relevant to current events. If you were me, I’d be in love with you, but since you’re not, then only I will do. It is my greatest pleasure to be the nation’s treasure. With a citizen like...

Climbing up to the Acropolis of Lindos on Rhodes, we walked, a line of tourists eager to see what death had built. They say each morning as the slaves shuffled along that same incline, the last man up would be killed to encourage haste. Would they panic as the...

from Boston a fueled falcon took flight carrying fire to the nest of commerce. 9/11/2015

They dance on a grid of grass, these tough-boned boys, padded for the joy of contact, hurling the fortress of their bodies, thud and crash. The quarterback with his hands full of hope turns making distance between himself and attackers, dodge-darting on the green...