Category Archives: My Poetry

Five Sonnets

… I focused on these sonnets, part of Sonnets 1 – 60, this late winter and spring prior to a reading I was going to do in Philly and managed to change most of the things that bothered me about … Continue reading →

A Few Swimmers Appear

19 Apr ’12

… … Apparent rari nantes in gurgite vasto. A few swimmers appear in a huge whirlpool. —Vergil … sleep vanishes When sleep vanishes then you swim. Awake is no island merely swift stroke and breath. The moon is not the … Continue reading →

Fucking II, part II: Poet Laundromat: I see a Tiajuana donkey leans

14 Apr ’12

… Poet Laundromat was published with the help of Stephen Spera & Philadelphia Eye & Ear Press in 1983. It comes from a long poem I was working on called Fucking, but it took its own form from the larger … Continue reading →

74

5 Apr ’12

… I saw the bluebird first, its beating soft Red breast. Young water snake, I looked for it Next settled near the dock but it hadn’t Risen yet or already’d slithered off. The pond’s cold. I won’t dive in. It … Continue reading →

69

4 Apr ’12

… Happy children hunted for eggs and went bursting through the bushes. I’d hurriedly made them before that unexpectedly fast, put off for so long in a moment fun, boiled, dyed and done. Morning’s over. The afternoon has found a … Continue reading →

68

4 Apr ’12

… Had I left sooner or later it would All have been different, but I didn’t And got into two arguments, one in A store and one on the sidewalk about The neighborhood with two freeloaders who Do nothing, yet … Continue reading →

103

30 Mar ’12

… I woke up from a dream before daylight. I’d dreamt I tried to make a living plant into a work of art. It didn’t work. Trying to make it sculpture-hard it died. I was in a room with other … Continue reading →

67

25 Mar ’12

… I used to clean cat vomit up but now I don’t unless it’s in the path I walk Otherwise it can stay unlike broken glass or garbage with day old fish in it. In less than an hour or … Continue reading →

25

20 Mar ’12

… My cat and I play chasing each other. He jumps while I write and then stretches out full length in back of the warm computer to claw my hand when it comes in sight. Ouch! Ow! I say but … Continue reading →

22

17 Mar ’12

… The fortunate fish escaped from the net knows what it is like to go to heaven. Is life the net? Is that what Buddha meant? Are the holes in the hands the nails nail in not only bleeding, but … Continue reading →

19

14 Mar ’12

… My hands are numb and yet the sun is bright. It’s early spring when death becomes alive. Crows caw, geese honk and the mallards quack at The pond. The ice is gone but at the back Of the barn … Continue reading →

43

12 Mar ’12

… You do not tell a snake which way to twist its limb nor cats where they can or can’t walk. And the same holds true for the sonnet, its thoughts are its own. Through me you hear it talk … Continue reading →