Sue’s Painting

Sue’s Painting

The blue arch over fire’s horizon
blood and ocean
as complete as clouds allow
reaches Sue
and is affixed to the canvass

Is that smoke ascending
to the south, billowing purple?
And the parrots watching 
are they yellow bibbed warriors 
or simply her imagination, yours
and mine?

By |2012-02-15T12:34:03+00:00February 15th, 2012|New Poems, Uncategorized|Comments Off on Sue’s Painting

Wislawa Symborska

We lost a treasure of a poet on Wednesday.  The depth and simplicity of  Wislawa Symborska’s work reflect a great soul who has left us and who will be missed.


True love. Is it normal,
is it serious, is it practical?
What does the world get from two people
who exist in a world of their own?

Placed on the same pedestal for no good reason,
drawn randomly from millions, but convinced
it had to happen this way–in reward for what? For nothing.
The light descends from nowhere.
Why on these two and not others?
Doesn’t this outrage justice? Yes it does.
Doesn’t it disrupt our painstakingly erected principles,
and cast the moral from the peak? Yes on both accounts.

Look at the happy couple.
Couldn’t they at least try to hide it,
fake a little depression for their friends’ sake!
Listen to them laughing–it’s an insult.
The language they use–deceptively clear.
And their little celebrations, rituals,
the elaborate mutual routines–
it’s obviously a plot behind the human race’s back!

It’s hard even to guess how far things might go
if people start to follow their example.
What could religion and poetry count on?
What would be remembered? what renounced?
Who’d want to stay within bounds?

True love. Is it really necessary?
Tact and common sense tell us to pass over it in silence,
like a scandal in Life’s highest circles.
Perfectly good children are born without its help.
It couldn’t populate the planet in a million years,
it comes along so rarely.

Let the people who never find true love
keep saying that there’s no such thing.

Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.

By |2012-02-04T02:47:00+00:00February 4th, 2012|New Poems, Uncategorized|Comments Off on Wislawa Symborska

Next to Nothing

No greater than the sum

of cancer’s brigade

advanced over the border

at 57th Street 

to your skin

Smaller than the gem 

on you thumb

pointing strontium

to flee from


Oh tiny

as the pretext for war

all gadgetry’s required

to inflate

A few piranha at your feet

One fine anopheles

The little tse tse 

Pretty grains of wheat missing


minute still

ripped from terraced hill

in deluge down to wayside ditch

and swelling up and splitting




    Published Synaesthesia




By |2012-02-04T02:07:08+00:00February 4th, 2012|New Poems, Uncategorized|Comments Off on Next to Nothing


       “Those who cannot remember
the past are condemned to repeat it”           

The back rooms were bus
as Napoleon started to fall
and new types of murder were devised
for the future and map change

In the sophisticated theater of the absurd
two hundred years later
a million lieutenants believed
they were holding golden apples

and the people didn’t how to read
aside from the engineers of evil
the 2nd or 3rd in command
with their pipeline to Puppet for a Day

So it was was repeated one more time!
with guffaws or with shrieks from the tortured
as the birds faded, the cicadas electrically buzzed
and a few stomachs gurgled, after the banquet

Published Durable Goods 39

By |2012-02-04T01:46:10+00:00February 4th, 2012|New Poems, Uncategorized|Comments Off on History
Go to Top