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I WANT
I want my poem to scream out so loudthat you will hear it even if you are notpaying attention or are busy with other thingsyou think are more important than poetry. Too often my poems just lie on the paper,or are dead pixels on a screen, whisperingwhat I wanted shouted, but I am so oftena…
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TO A FATHER, NEVER KNOWN
You were to be my prophetand you played Jonah one morningby clutching your chest at the sinkand dropping to the floor, dead.You left me to wanderthrough Ninevah, a beggartwice robbed of originground pulled from beneath my feet.Why did you flee your taskthe one for which you were anointed.Couldn’t you see our home laid ruinconsumed by…
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TROTSKY
He slipped the knife quicklybetween two ribs as hewas carefully trained,withdrew it and placed itinside the raincoat, a bit oddin the bright sun of Mexico City. He disappeared into the streetsand later toiled in an endlessseries of five year plans,sharing the small apartmentsharing bread and the linesalways the lines and waiting. Now in Moscow he…
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BELLY OF THE BEAST
From within the belly of the beast Sheol is a placid place, removed from the waves rattling the timbers, silent of the cries of the men berating their fate, uncertain as to the cause of their discomfort. Let Nineveh burn, lets its people scatter to the streets, let the King stare out at the destruction…
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STREETCORNER PROPHESY
He stands on the corner, rocking back and forth. He has been here every day for as long as most can remember. He hasn’t bathed in some time, his clothes, once white are indeterminate shades of beige. Everything is worn thin. His beard has grown long, shaggy. His hair seems electric on his head. He…
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an old writer and his words 