Category Archives: Poetry

What Is New to Me Now, at 68

(Annual Greenfield Word Festival 2016) . What is new to me now, (don’t bother me with cell phones, legalized weed), . What is new to me now is constant war with no intervals of peace, What is new to me … Continue reading

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I Hate Autumn

I hate autumn. The colors, the wind, the chill, the wilted plants. Autumn is the drama queen of the year, Always in crisis, Flinging beauty about recklessly. . Autumn gets under your skin. Sneakier than winter, more glamorous than spring. … Continue reading

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Philip

My restless, fitful cousin Punched a black patient in the hospital. At Thanksgiving dinner he offered advice he’d gotten From a prostitute the week before: “The best part of sex is right after the orgasm.” .. One eye had been … Continue reading

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The Road Around the Hill

He insisted that the road wound around the hill all the way to the top with No stops. He lied. On purpose. .. On the first curve was an ice-cream truck. I passed it by. First test passed. On the … Continue reading

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The News I Fear

Slugs are not much loved. Maybe God loves slugs, But who knows? .. One day in the garden, no slugs. Next day, slugs. .. The invisible destroyer becomes solid, Well, almost solid; It’s a slug. .. Rare is the animal … Continue reading

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Many Doorsteps

That Doorstep That doorstep trips you up every time. Look down, the key is under the bucket. Look up, watch your head. Watch, don’t let the cat out. Look behind, or the screen door will hit you. Put your bag … Continue reading

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Time Does Not Repeat Itself

Oh no, time does not repeat itself, It spirals, perhaps, one turn reverberating on the others, But time does not repeat.   Nature’s variation is endless, Orderly, yet endless.   Everything done will be undone.   Everything undone waits for … Continue reading

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On the Porch

  Listen to the quiet between the passing cars. Listen to the quiet after the neighbors argue. . Feel the rough pod before you break open the milkweed. Rest before speaking. (Under the blister, soft skin is healing.) . Under … Continue reading

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Tim and the Tiny Man

Tim looked down as he came over the knell And a tiny man with shears was squatting there. . Tim stopped in amazement and stared, And as he did, the tiny man leaned over his shadow. . Tim’s shadow stopped … Continue reading

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Black Woman God

Black Madonna of Czestochowa . .Creation is the fruit of thy womb. Painful memories and the souls’ dark spaces – The fly in the spider’s web – No suffering is ignored, No despair unfelt by you, No grief belittled. . … Continue reading

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