Republished with permission of "The Wall Street Journal," July 16, 1993
Now, the fathers, having suffered… prospering, gave unto their begotten plowshare… seeds that their begotten might also pro…
The Pathetic Fallacy Revisited I’ve seen near shore a sycophantic… A cautious waiter at an osprey’s f… I’ve seen his cohorts find the bea… Their interest in the dumpsters mu…
A Wake In Florida’s woods there stands a… Still silo-girthed but leaning now… The trunk bone-white, stripped of… The spectral limbs shattered, gone…
He with pregnant wife, Sneaking out the back And down the broken stairs, To score some grass or crack. Threading through the alley,
Coffee Table Books A coffee table book’s not there to… it’s there to stupefy your curious… who read the titles surreptitiousl… to sneer in secret at your shallow…
To coda played by lonely whippoorw… A tiny cottage dons its dusk-dark… And snuggles into undulating hills… Its chimney twisting just a curl o… To prove there’s life within these…
My parents always seemed to be hum… Protecting beasts once sought with… And eating guiltily the ones still… Ennobling evolution’s theme . . .… They gave me newer weapons, bats a…
The Afghan women, dreading stones… don sacks of baggy black, concealing them from crown to sole… excepting narrow Brink-truck slots through which the men folk let the…
Because far more than friendship,… Youg Willy craved the gleaming, w… That, sparkling on the dealer’s lo… Of slashing flights toward any dis… Whose neon gleam avoided grimy mil…
High Mindedness Our hunters, armed with guns and b… Go forth to thin the numerous deer… So none will starve, we’re to supp… Though that lie causes me to sneer…
Relativity at the foundry Behold the scene at the iron works Where whirls of girls and harried… Surround the boss, a man of vision… Who, visualizing a new division,
Vocations Envy those conjoined to function: ballerinas shopping in fifth posit… humming coroners ladling brains silent Harpo honking his horn
Domesticity The jelly cleaned off the worn lin… the laundry folded and put away, three children washed and bedded, Thelma kicks off her floppies,
Poesy’s Progress My rhymes are gone, at least quite… my lines are stop– ped just anywhere. The meter is, no doubt, unconscion…
I am 88. I need much equipment: I need my walker so I can shuffle about, a lift chair to stuff me in the wa…