Florida, 2000 A.D. A panting tongue of a tiring natio… lapping a tawdry cornucopia poured like broken baubles down th… through the northern end of Southe…

A Sixtieth Anniversary: Oedipus… Attraction through the eye, the li… Portrays the blazing start of this… For years that magnetism did not w… Remained the stuff to move a sonne…

I will not wear shorts, wing-tip s… I will continue to be grateful tha… I will not listen to any salesman… I will quit telling people how I… I will not say, “I don’t know wha…

I know you mean the best for me, But why is there this urgency? If once you really had the time To praise my attributes in rhyme, I wonder if procrastination

Drama 101 Belief in righteousness began the… Fanaticism breeds most violence: See Beowulf remove poor Grendel’s… To conquer (from his view) malevol…

The Seven Virtues Six centuries ago a pope devised A list of sins he thought should b… But now we see the list must be re… For calling virtues sins will neve…

He with pregnant wife, Sneaking out the back And down the broken stairs, To score some grass or crack. Threading through the alley,

The Jacaranda in Spring (Near Rhyme) What discount art inspired this ta… Eleven months a year you’re quite… Too dark and gaunt, we thought, to…

Stopping By Woods on a Summer Mo… A surge of energy pervades this wo… As multitudes of insects, beasts a… Of many sizes, shapes, survival mo… Attend to all their daily tasks —…

Sure, ask who died, and ask why J… Won’t have Brad’s baby, whom she’… Read how the princess slept with h… See Mary’s image on a slice of br… Get proof that so-and-so’s a murde…

Poetry Editors To Poets Don’t send us dull pentameters; That stuff’s for Keats and other… Submit no rhyme, but heaven knows We hate a poem that sounds like pr…

A Dumb Waiter in a Heavenly res… (Lou’s Cafe: Fontvielle, France) Our voices hushed, we slip into the narrow, gloomy room, a taper on the back-wall bar

An Abomination* Ice-gleamed streets, sky an ebony… and a girl accordions her tiny car into the back of mine. She, carmine-streamed, head throug…

Poesy’s Progress My rhymes are gone, at least quite… my lines are stop– ped just anywhere. The meter is, no doubt, unconscion…