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ALL NEW
She says that with her new CIthe water in the reverse osmosis machinesounds strangely like a fountain.I am tempted to tell her to justclose her eyes and imaginefor a moment we are backin Rome, standing in front,of the Trevi Fountain, hearingthe Euro coins plunk down in the waterto the joyful chortles of the touristswho perpetually…
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JUST IMAGINE FOR A MOMENT
Imagine that they could see youbehind the velvet ropes, staringat them slack-jawed, at the opulenceand the excess that was ancient Egypt.We stare at the sarcophagi, at the goldthrone chair and jewel encrusted gods,imagining ourselves able to affordluxury on that remarkable scale,we more the slaves out of sightbreaking our backs to build the tombsthat would someday…
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ARCHEOLOGY
On a belated honeymoon in Italywe wandered around the Roman Forumamazed at the ruins, imagining how theylooked once, how they had fallen so, eatenaway by time and endless stares of touristswho only wanted to touch history as ifit would grant them momentary immortality.Friends visiting Turkey sent picturesof the Hagia Sophia and that, in turn,returned my…
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ANCIENT AMONG ANCIENTS
As we walked slowly through the Forumthe Coliseum receding into the lateafternoon, the Virgins stood patientlyas befits a priestess trained to avoidthe stares of passing men, even touristssuch as we were, the columns staringdown reminding us of our youth despite the birthdays that we celebratedwith the joy of togetherness, andthe nagging knowledge that we wereanother…
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ABRIDGED STORY
On our first visit to Prague it was almost hard to imagine that this bridge was built to ferry people and traffic across the River. Now it is jammed with tourists and those for whom tourists are a ubiquitous market, and anyone needing to expeditiously cross the cranky water that every now and again must…
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SENĀTUS POPULUSQUE RŌMĀNUS
As we walked slowly through the Forum the Coliseum receding into the late afternoon, the Virgins stood patiently as befits a priestess trained to avoid the stares of passing men, even tourists such as we were, the columns staring down reminding us of our youth despite the birthdays that we celebrated with the joy of…
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IN VINO
The vines cling to the hillside, the small buds soon yielding fruit but now simply soaking up the spring sun. You dream the grapes are fat, the deep purple orbs holding in their Syrah, Grenache, Mourvedre, and you only wish it would wash down the hillside and stain the sometime fetid River. The boats flow…
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SNAKE EYES
They roll in, one after the next, after the next, gaps that appear in their rank are soon enough filled. By night you mark them by their red lights, lemmings with no cliff in sight, so they sit one alongside the next in the queue, disgorging their chattering, smiling contents into the vast building, and…
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an old writer and his words 