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THIS IS NOT
This is not the poemmy birth mother meant to writemeant to tuck in my blanketwhen I was handed overto the adoption agencymeant to follow methrough childhood, youth,adulthood, to be readon the day my sons were born.It would be a poemthat would be etcheddeeply into my psychethat would echo in my mindduring the quiet moments.She never…
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AND NOT A PRINCE
I suppose I could sit hereand emulate Hamlet, questionexistence, lose myself in a bookand when asked what I was readingreply words, words, words untilmy questioner doubted my sanity.But my father is gone, the biologicalone and both adopted onesfor bad measure, and so areboth mothers, so the key relationshipin that play has no underpinning in mine.And…
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CRIME SCENE
It was far and away the worstcrime scene he could rememberand he had been at it for many years.Over here were the bodiesof anapests and dactylsmotionless where they fell,oh how he wanted to pulla white sheet over themfor his sake if not for theirsfor they were beyond caring.By the wall he saw a trocheehalf draped…
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HOPE, YET
There is a certain pleasurein reading obscure biographiesof the decidedly lesser lightsof their respective fields.Inevitably a writer assiduouslystruggles to avoid mentionof the great men and womenwho define the discipline,and the books are shorter,for even if their lives were visitedby great trials, and even ifthey overcame obstacles,we all know they ascendedonly so far, and we,at the…
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HOW
How are we to deal with a God whose angel kills the first bornwhose only sin was to be born Egyptian who causes the sea to wash over an armydoing the bidding of a despot orfacing death at his hands who turns a city into saltfor the sins of the many but not all who…
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A HAUNTING
The ghosts that haunt my dreamsspeak in many languages, eachfamiliar, twisted deep inside me.I cannot answer for they do not listen,say they do not know me, know me well.I want to sit, to talk with each in turnbut I have no voice they can hearchoked off by cruel Morpheuswho only releases his grip oncethey have…
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HAGAR’S SON
Did you so fear being Hagarthat you deemed me Esau, stolemy birthright, my name, my pastand cast me off into a wilderness?I knew nothing of this, your secrettaken with you to the grave as you wished.Did you consider that I might beIshmael, never knowing my father,adopted into a culture that wouldnever be mine, a child…
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READING PAUL MULDOON
Reading Paul Muldoon this afternoonI thought of you for no reason.It wasn’t your birthday, notthat you celebrate them where you are,nor the anniversary of the day you died.And it certainly was not becauseI was reading about Ireland sinceI never imagined I had Irish blood, andyou never went there, and when I didI didn’t know you…
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WHAT ONCE WAS
It will never again be the same,the world we knew has grownashen, washed of color, our visionmonochromatic, our ears deaf.We have engineered this in our blindness,unable to see the corrosion wehave loosed, we are Pandora, welet free the lid of the box, our greedmet by the ghosts of those wehave condemned, those yetto be born,…
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an old writer and his words 