Category Archives: Poems

[ A pre-script to this letter, if you please: I am reading CASTE, by Isabel Wilkerson, an extraordinarily thoughtful book. Some of the authors ideas connect to a topic currently under discussion in our community: The proposed renaming of Saint … Continue reading →

I have arrived at that old-age enough to fret whether the last time I did – x – will be the last time I do – x -. Not so much, yet, because of that inevitable, final, total, ceasing: “The … Continue reading →

Yeah, Yeah… I’ve heard what that new song sings, that I was an old man but took to wife Mary, the young “Queen of Galilee” Well, that was fifty years ago! Now, I am old. Callused palms, age spotted arms, … Continue reading →

I aspire to poetry. Mostly I achieve only rhythm and rhyme or worse, doggerel. But every once in an age, collaborating muses mix mystery and miracle with muscle. Mere words take on that glorious role, the voice of a roll … Continue reading →

A Facebook post from Christal asks for directions, not to somewhere, rather where somewhere is: North. Needing that spot in space to catch a comet coming by every 6,800 years! She didn’t want to miss it, on this try. Christal … Continue reading →

Sitting at breakfast, eating my habitual bowl of Cherrios mixed with grains and nuts and berries, (like the animal food I used to buy for a nickel a bag at the Bronx Zoo when I was a wandering little kid … Continue reading →

“That’s right! There ain’t nuthin’ wrong with sittin’ on a swing, swung from a live-oak-tree, swingin’ in the shade on a hot summer’s day whether chores be done or not! That’s right, chil’, ‘course you ain’t hurtin’ no body! There … Continue reading →

The old tenements, now renovated for NYU student-housing, still have that 19th century grotto-getto feel. The narrow streets south of Washington Square Park look like scenes from pre-WW1 Paris city-scapes. But now, the starving artists are debt-strapped-grad-students trying to save … Continue reading →

Not shy. A bold approach on the waters edge. He smiles up at me. Why not? I seem like a nice guy. He says, “Hi! I’m Timothy. I’m five. My mommy’s up there on the beach under that rainbow-ka-banana-sun-block-thing. But … Continue reading →

Poems need be writ- naked, stripped of all costumes and customs designed to protect them from lifes inclement elements. If it’s hot, let the poem sweat. Frigid? It shivers. If it sings of breasts, let them be huge, round and … Continue reading →