Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Four Old Poems

Cold October Parks

I’m sitting-in the cold
October park-
Just sitting-writing a poem
About how beautiful
Everything could be.
Isn’t it a joke-
(you) telling me.

I’m sitting- in the cold
December dark-
Just sitting- writing a poem
About how ugly
Everything can be.
Isn’t this a joke-
(me) trying to tell you.

Sheepshead Bay Brooklyn October 1972


Maybe it's a lack of sleep
Or perhaps I've been at sea too long
But something’s missing-
the pieces don't fit right anymore. All this water-
and so many thirsty people.

There's got to be something else!
Things can't go on this way for long-
Something's missing-
The sun's too high for it to be this dark.There's too much
warmth for us all to be left
out in the cold.

Cuba- 1978


My friends and I
Always found it easy
To say I love you
To one another.

My mother, when I was seven,
Taught me solitaire.
I always took after her…
We sat on the bed and dealt,
(the cards)
With one another-
Learning the game.
A touch of the hand
Turning a card
Changes the course
Of the game

Aboard Mississinewa/ Bermuda June 1983


She took me
Quite by surprise
As I was walking
One hand grazing
A sandstone stoop
In passing,
I turned my head
To see her face and
The quizzical, puzzled look-
Not without affection or fondness
For whatever it was
That she could see
At that moment.
A look like she
Wanted to know more.

East Side Manhattan August 1985

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