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Mom-Mom cleaned and dried me with
a kitchen towel,
Like I was a damn butter
dish,
Once I popped out ‘round dusk
one day
(My moth..
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We knew the place better than
we knew our homes,
Each scratch and warped spot on the bar,
Each tear and repair in the
old-school upholste..
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There
is no question of her cycling up the
hill;
She
has no upscale concoction
Of
carbon-fiber frame, painstakingly engineered gear-rat..
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It is three, perhaps four, in
the morning,
And he is, as is his custom,
fully awake
(Slumber not being a restful
place,
A habitat ..
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Oh, he still mounts up for his seasonal ride
Here in Irving’s bucolic corner of the Hudson
Valley,
Chasing some suitably har..
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It’s not like her to knock, of
course.
She tiptoes in
half-apologetically
(Though the notion of being
unwelcome has never crossed h..
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They
were always there,
Though
there was no reason to notice them,
Gray
grunting creatures whose existed
To
haul carts full t..
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The classically-trained and
symphony-polished,
If someone deigned to listen
to their disapprobations,
Would tell all and sundry
that he w..
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I
hate poets.
They
annoy me deeply.
I.
There are the balladeers,
Working in service of their
inner Service,
(Though, des..
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Thing is, Goliath is
vulnerable,
And that’s all relative
anyhow
(Six-seven and two thirty
five plenty big for most folks,
But wh..
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