Sunday Afternoon Sitting outside at Stella and Bella’s CafeThe Presidential debate two hours awayReading Su Tung-P’o’s bamboo poemWill Clinton deliver the knock-out blow?On my ballot, I’ll write in: Chuang Tzu Dharma Brother Wang Wei Devoted…
Three of you four gayOne married to Zionist royalty Whitman was awesomeWrote no-big-deal stuff too Reznikoff was superbYet suffered anonymity Ginsberg was world-influentialScribbled drivel sometimes You can (I know) write verse with vervePrompt a tear,…
Was it something I said?Was it a promise I botched? Was it something I didn’t say?Was it an important letter for your future I said I’d write, but didn’t? Was it a facial expression giving…
When did he meet Joanie French?He captured her almost perfectly… If only he included her swishing from 25 feet In “Her Mystery Not of High Heels and Eye Shadow”!
With its three major conflicts brewing (“you’re on my side, aren’t you?”) And seven minor ones simmering (“he was a loser then, he’s even worse now”) The bride’s burning eyes (“there’s only one way to…
My house is a thin-feeling place where I sit witnessing the fog roll in on a time of Sacred Confusion. I’ve been reading The poems, The prayers, The mantras of The wisdom-speakers Reminding us of…
“So easy in the woods to daydream and pray to the local spirits and say “Allow me to stay here, I only want peace.” –Jack Kerouac, Big Sur Listen here. If you find yourself laying…
Dear Bella Balaban “That higher-up in the Vietnamese Politburo who died of cancer—what a decent guy!” “I miss—I really do—our last dictator. He was so intelligent and really tried to make la Guardia more diverse.”…
I want to listen to your tales of triumph and disaster I want to massage your feet, long oppressed by heels I want to be present to all you cannot say I want to be…