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February 3, 2020

The villa of Petrarch sits on a hill
Above the rapids tumbling through the rocks.
It's ruins now--the broken stones are clocks
That tick much faster than his poems will.
We fabricate his home to hold it still
While his verse blossoms like deep purple stocks
And his rhy...

January 28, 2020

Percy Bysshe Shelley’s “Ozymandias” is one of his shortest works, but also one of his best known, anthologized to the point of ubiquity. But it deserves every bit of the reputation it has gained. Short, yet powerful and descriptive, it illustrates the sonnet at its bes...

January 25, 2020

The lavender fields are dotted

with white boxes squat as houses.

In his mesh veil, smoker handy,

hands gloved, he slowly removes

the upright tray patterned in perfect

hexagons of wax, lifting it gently

with a swarm on it as if a painting

come to life to speak of life.

He calls...

January 18, 2020

Cicada 

There is, I know, some benefit in this,
this cycle of emerging, breeding, dying-
so brief a time for knowing any bliss,
or making friends, or new endeavors trying –

only to bring forth offspring which will know
a dark, damp, subterranean home for years,
preservin...

January 18, 2020

Holy night, descending softly,

Descending, too, are our dreams,

Like moonlight through a darkened room,

Through the depths of a man`s breast.

He listens with elation;

When Night starts to fade, he cries:

Come back, holy night,

Return, sweetest dreams, return!

Translation © Dav...

January 13, 2020

The first true norther came today,
With raging gusts of wind and rain,
And blew the Summer heat away,
And with it all of passion’s pain.


Though others think that sudden chill
A harbinger of loss and death,
I feel a wild, soul-stirring thrill
In bleak November’s first c...

January 6, 2020

Truth has no need for empty praise

By those attired in scholar’s garb, 

So keenly with the microscopes

And scalpels of their intellects

Dissecting all her varied forms

And chaining them in epithets.

Serenely indifferent is she,

And goes about her changeless ways

With unrelenti...

December 25, 2019

A pin oak grips its leaves, long turned to brown
And hanging against the frosts and deepening chill,
Into December still it holds them on
When all the trees around have let them fall.

The envied flowers have gone for many a day
Whose beauty struck the solemn oak to sh...

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