Archive for the 'F) My Poetry' Category

Hamlet Attempts to Alleviate Ophelia’s Anxieties about Copernican Astronomy, the Impending Post-Claudius Singularity, and Other Riddles of Existence

Wednesday, July 11th, 2012

Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt thou the Big Bang set them all aflame;
Doubt thou the second law of thermodynamics will extinguish every final flickering photon in 10/1000 years, give or take a few trillion millennia,
But never doubt I love…..

Emily and Me

Saturday, December 11th, 2010

Me and Emily We never wrote for Fame – Stitched our Verses out of Sight – Had no Truck – with the Book-Hawkers’ Game – She left her Manuscripts to Chance – Pending her Sister’s – posthumous Zeal – Mine rest in the Upstairs Study – Third Drawer – Seventh File. Me and Emily We […]

Thirteen Ways of Killing a Blackbird

Wednesday, June 9th, 2010

“A few weeks ago, the seven members of the New York City Board of Education found something odd in their mailboxes: three Wallace Stevens poems, courtesy of Harold O. Levy, the interim schools chancellor. . . . ‘For the most part I’m ignoring it,’ said Ninfa Segarra, one of Mayor Rudolph W. Giuliani’s appointees to […]

Sonnet: To P. M. D.

Wednesday, June 9th, 2010

My love, no two have ever loved before. This earth has never known so soft a Spring, Nor early webs so bright with spider-dew. Till us, leaves never fully felt the sense of ‘green,’ nor tongues the tender turn of thou. No other two can love as we do now. Our sight alone the slight […]

Fifty

Wednesday, June 9th, 2010

The unvoiced score that wins a tennis game. In yards, the shortest race that runners dash. Said twice, a chance that equals lose or win. The age when politicians grow mature. On fifty-minute hours Freud built his fame. Just fifty years ago the market crash wiped out an Old Deal, saw a New begin. From […]

Forty

Wednesday, June 9th, 2010

Forty days of rain were not enough to drown the world; God added forty nights. Forty thieves made Ali Baba rich. For Milgram, forty myrmidons set free the psyche’s dark; but forty more times three, to tell him when and why, must push the switch. At forty Sigmund Freud turned on the lights. Wagner and […]

The Frog

Wednesday, June 9th, 2010

Regard the frog. In days of watered heat he first heard echoed peeps to his bold boom and squeezed his eyes to search the lily bloom till her webbed grace splashed past his thin throatbeat. They rocked the pads in sun and swam through night and she was all frog glories without fault. His bubble […]

With Love to X—–

Wednesday, June 9th, 2010

Yes, I write verses, when they summon me. Never were you called; you do not know what merry fun to tear your chest and see those pretty driftwords in the bloody flow. For who? You stand with red lips and ask me that and think my mouth will answer? (Holy name: I will not speak […]

Sonnet on an Ice-Floe

Wednesday, June 9th, 2010

by Ivan Alekseevich Bunin High atop a summit’s snowy line I carved a sonnet with a bright steel blade. The days shall pass. Perhaps, with winter’s aid, The snows will keep my solitary sign. Upon a peak within the sky’s blue height, The sun my single witness, I cut fine Upon an emerald ice-floe each […]

How Khrushchev Stole Khristmas

Wednesday, June 9th, 2010

(A Cold War Tale for a Cold Winter’s Night) One night in the Kremlin, while Red Square was black, Nikita (“Nick”) Khrushchev lay flat on his back. He tossed and he turned in his Marxian bed As troikas of nightmares galumphed through his head. He woke with a start and he knocked on red wood, […]

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