Wednesday, February 7, 2018


Rapture ignited the fire
of prolonged deepening desire
with a loving intensity  
impossible to satisfy
in our dreamworld

The passage of time turned passion
into a smoldering landscape
periodically bursting
into renovated romance
in our dreamworld

Old age seized us
in its wearing grip
worn bodies remember
the sparks of young love
in our dreamworld

          (Feb. 7, 2018)

Thursday, January 11, 2018


Home is for the aged forlorn
a mystical memory
of waking to mother
in the childhood kitchen
making breakfast

Waking in girlish happiness
anticipating a happy day
walking with friends to school
ice skating in the park
enjoying a hot chocolate

If only we could
fetch that girlhood scene
to the present moment
to salve the endless ache
for the mystical home

          (Nov. 11, 2018)

Saturday, January 6, 2018


In tortured times
think happy thoughts
the easiest sources
lie in your idyllic
childhood memories

Mine: going with my father
all alone to Coney Island
the pleasure of my mother
welcoming me home with love
at the end of the school day

Picnicking  with  my sister Gloria
Bicycling with my brother Bill
Lunching with my sister Miriam
Campbell’s tomato soup
and oysterettes

          (Jan. 6, 2018: During World War II, my mother was still at work for a company catering to defense plants when I came home from school for lunch and at the end of the school day. She would leave lunch, soup and a sandwich, on the kitchen table for my sister, Miriam, and me. I was 11 when the war ended, her job along with it. I can still clearly recall the pleasure of finding her home once again.)

Thursday, December 21, 2017


          Please, please leave me alone 
          let me sit in quiet
          let me think my thoughts
          let me doze in peace

          My life is filled
          with dronery
          the dishes must be done
          the laundry is waiting
          Don’t follow me
          to my heaven
          don’t follow me
          to burning hell
          Leave me alone
          go your own way

                   (Dec. 21, 2017)

Wednesday, November 1, 2017

THE ELITE, a poem


                 Whether famous or anonymous
                  the elite soar from the plebeians
                  through their individual feats
                  of a moment or a lifetime
                  The elite number in millions
                  beginning at the beginning
                  the first leader, fire maker,
                  bard, farmer, baker, artist

                  Among the undeniably elite
                  reflecting marvelous achievements
                  Leonardo da Vinci, Barrack Obama
                  Elizabeth Bishop, Willie Nelson
                  Jim Thorpe, Shalane Flanagan

                                                  (Nov. 1 and 6, 2017)

Sunday, October 15, 2017


                  The rage of nature
                  the floods of Texas
                  the hurricane of Florida
                  the devastation of Puerto Rico
                  the fires of California

                  Earth’s revenge
                  grimly thrashes
                  with howlinge winds
                  with quaking earth
                  with leaping fires

                  Fecund world into
                  barren fields
                  empty seas
                  broiling suns
                  shriveling mankind

                  (Oct. 15, 2017)


Tuesday, October 10, 2017


          I took the pen
          she gave me
          to write without
          looking back
          become the writer
          not the reciter

          I stand on the
          shore of the Styx
          to paddle without
          looking back;
          become the ferryman
          and the ferried

          I weigh the balance
          of unworthy debt
          no obolus beneath
          my tongue;
          become the creator
          of my golden bough

          (Oct. 10, 2017. This poem was written six years ago by the protagonist in my novel, THE ABSCONDER. It was inspired by a woman he loved, but was forced to abandon to escape the possibility of being returned to prison. In his new life he became a noted poet.)