Epigram on Jacques Derrida

“With a style like that Perhaps you should err to prose.” But Derrida had in his hat Lyric enough to seem verbose. Advertisements

To Brigit, Between Winter and Spring

The granite mountain was silent, The wind sounded on the plain, Birds flew their bent, Fine horses snorted and strained. How lofty the mountain, How low the plain, How dear the heart’s fountain, Surging again. Would it wither in the heights? Or be scattered upon the plain? Did they escape the ashes of desire, by Burning in…

An Ode Upon the Appearance of Sunshine in Winter

1. Sunlight bathes the winter earth, Bringing light to death Or, perhaps the darkness of rebirth. 2. There lingered the memory of months gone by, A bloom of love painting Soft lips to touch the sky. 3. Though it may familiar be, See how love embraces life, How life embraces a memory.  

Ode on a Pine Tree in Early Autumn

    Oh, what can be said of this blue-grey tinge That neither brightens nor ever dims? About you are these fading beauties, While you await the blooming of snowy verities.   As one season passes into the next, You endure all at nature’s behest. But sage you are under sun and moon: For you show us nature’s…

Clouds in Early Autumn

Clouds in early autumn… Obscure the sun, muting its light, Full of dampness amid the cooling air And draw in the early fall of night By caressing the heat of summer’s care.

Sonnet on a Tree in Fall on a Busy Street

A tall and slender tree beside the street Reaches up to the sky with branches bright And brightening where they the sun do meet, Encouraged by warmth and light to greater height. And up they reach, though the chill of fall arrives, And winter, at times, does whisper down from on high, From a perfect…

Sonnet on a Hot Day in Late Summer

The not yet fallen sun evokes a scene Fit for an impressionist’s painting hand: A scene too bright to be a dream, Of textured strokes loosely planned, Of a lakeside view on glinting waves, And of children with sandwiches and gazing men -Bass and slow-developing octaves- Not exactly wise, but with much in their ken. Forgotten…

An Epigram on Wittgenstein’s Philosophy

Two players at chess mind the board, Utilizing the customary forms, To move pieces backward and forward, In hopes of success or reward, And thus are the pieces in a language used, Even when honoring a muse. But language may lack system, And therein a new game is bidden, By philosophical spirits, Who take up the…

Epigram on a Lime

With your hard and dense green skin, One wonders where you fall in paradise, Where peaches, full of summer sin, Hang so soft, so ripe.


Proposals You came with trumpets and colors And left with a wave of your hand Too soon for an odd proposal; Late enough for sifting in sand. But then the band struck up a tune, And under a summer moon The sap of love moved a hand, And one took another in hand.  

Epigram On a Fallen Tree Branch

In a park by the sea, On a day after a storm, A tree-branch rested lightly, Fallen from its prior form: The grass around seemed unconcerned, And the birds did visit sure, While we gazed at what heights it earned Down there by the shore.