Saturday, December 31, 2016

THE AMERICAN DEMOCRACY, a poem

          Our democracy
          is a magnificent
          iceberg
          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

Sisyphus
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
Sisyphus


(Dec. 23, 2016)

ROSE HILL in WINTER, a poem

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)