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ORIGIN
I am told that I should writeabout my origins, that is the stuffthat long poems are made of, orrather the soil from which they bloom. I have written about my birth motherand visited her grave in West Virginiaseen those of my grandparents, meta cousin, I’ve written all of that. So its time to write aboutmy…
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WANDERING NO MORE
In my dreams I wanderedthe alleys of Lisbon searchingfor a familiar face, and manycame close, but no man stopped meand asked if I was, by chancehis son, for he dreamed Iwas what a son of hiswould look like. Now I have no need to wanderfor I know he is ina military cemeteryin Burlington, New Jersey,and…
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an old writer and his words 