Category Archives: Poems

The old Fox Squirrel playing clean-up crew under my back-yard-bird-feeders and I have a budding relationship. (Not exactly mishpouka, yet, but gradually, we’re getting close) He no longer runs when I walk outside through the back-porch-door. (That was in the … Continue reading →

The luxury of a quiet morning in a comfy bed is neither lessened nor enhanced by company. Each a treasure of its own kind. The sweaty leisure of satisfied flesh, the thoughtful pleasure of a thinking mind. No precedent-conflict here … Continue reading →

Wet Dreams are gone. Marathons are run. What’s left but a stroll in the evening sun? Weight plates hang on racks. I got to take care of my crumbling back. Pace maker’s tickin’ Pulse rates low Hearing aids workin’ Memory… … Continue reading →

I remember an afternoon I spent with my Grandma-Rose, Fathers Polish mother. I’d taken the #12 bus across The Bronx from City Island to her apartment near The Grand Concourse to help her shop for groceries for the coming Seder. … Continue reading →

When you tell time, what time it is right now, do you say how many minutes it is after what the last hour was or how many minutes it is before what the next hour is gonna be? 11:45 and … Continue reading →

Nancy and I sleep on our old king-sized four-poster bed, slats crossed above our heads, draping linen lace falls around us, a soft cocoon waiting morning chrysalis Each corner’s topped by a chess Bishop finial held in place by antique … Continue reading →

A confidgity convocation of Carolina Cardinals converged on the feeders in my back yard, co-mingleing with Thrasher, Finch, Blue Jay and Chickadee. They communally bathe in the concrete bird bath, as as a stone-face-Buddha sits serene at its base. They … Continue reading →

He took a right and two lefts. She took a right and a right and a right. He was standing with his buddies blocking the aisle she was trying to pass through. She said, “Ahem…”. He turned. Two breaths caught … Continue reading →

There is Intention, there is Plan even in the ran- dom rock and roll of a pin-ball. Flashing lights, whirling, bells and whistles, the signs of Will knocking us about till time is up and we rest, exhausted by the … Continue reading →

The following has nothing to do with poetry. It is going to be an essay when it is done. I may post it on FaceBook when I am finished. Maybe. I will try to organize my thoughts and make a … Continue reading →