Saturday, December 31, 2016


          Our democracy
          is a magnificent
          never before tested
          by a chieftain
          with polluted values
          Will Donald Trump
          prove to be
          a negligible ice pick
          a scarring steam shovel
          or a scorching force
          of nature
          Perhaps our form
          of government
          will blunt him
          frustrate him
          enrage him
          burn him out

          (Dec. 31, 2016)



Friday, December 23, 2016

MY ROCK, a poem

now I understand
what she did
so well
meals, washing, dusting
and loving me

What a good deal
I had
what she did
now I must do
the price of love
housework is my rock

(Dec. 23, 2016)


Fordham’s icled elms
tinkling in the breeze
in this snow pure season
that glorifies trees
recalls to my mind
the statue of a queen
which stands alone
on Edwards Green

(Dec. 23, 2016: I wrote this poem in November of December, 1955
in response to a campus literary magazine offering to publish any
poem written about Fordham’s Rose Hill campus in winter. The poem was not published. This was only the first stanza of a longer poem. I don’t remember the rest.)

Saturday, December 3, 2016

GOING, GOING, a poem

In translucent boxers
I walk alongside
the naked laughing girl
she strides away
a growing distance
between us

I expect her
to stop to wait
to turn
to rejoin me
she doesn’t

In the distance
she pauses among
three young men
I hurry forward
but she is gone
never to return

(Nov. 26, 2016: Last night I dreamt I was walking with a naked girl; I was wearing translucent shorts. I was embarrassed by our mutual nakedness; it was her idea. She started walking ahead of me on this country road. I let the distance grow between us expecting her to stop to wait for me or to turn around to rejoin me. She didn’t. In the distance I saw her surrounded by three young men. I hurried forward. They were lost to sight, disappeared. I never found her. She was gone. I am working this into a poem: Going, Going)