Some of my poems

I wrote most of these poems in 1975-1976. I have written poetry since then, and may include other poems on this web page in the future, but have never written so many in one time period as this. Worth noting, is that I wrote these poems shortly before my coming out of the closet. Perhaps that will help those who wish to analyse them. Personally I don't see the connection, except perhaps that the poems were an escape valve for much of the energy these issues produced. I have given these poems titles so that you can better remember which one you liked (or didn't like) but the titles are something I just did now.

A Note on Copyright: You have my permission to reproduce the following orignal writings for your own personal use. You may publish them on your web page or in a written publication that does not charge money if you, 1. tell me, 2. give me proper credit, 3. do not distort them or publish them in a publication I would object to, 4. if in paper, send me a free copy. If you want to publish them in a publication that people pay for, some payment will be expected.

                    Wild blazing golden fires



                        in the vast cold black of space



                    Through a blue sky splashed bright yellow



                       gently warm the green Earth's face

                        Standing in the shade of a tree



                        There I stood.



                                        Pleasant life.



                        On a hot day.



                                        Under the tree



                        Cool -- 



                            a breeze floated by and brushed my cheek



                        Then the thunder rumbled



                          and life was a struggle

     Once, 



                              when golden wine flowed in to my eyes 



                   Common gray and white surroundings melted away 



        And I the drunken boat floated on a river through paradise 



                       green water blue trees 



                             rushing tides to endless seas 



                           red sun slowly melted into white and gray



                                   and thunder rumbled far away 



          and I clumsily returned to where I was.

                 And sometimes when the sunshine broke 



                   into a thousand dancing droplets on the water 



                And the prism into a hundred bands of light, 



                    a thousand smiling children  



                            giggling, laughing grinning.





            Their smiles seared my flesh for I could not smile too, 



                I heard the thunder rumble and I knew. <

                        Words on Stage



                           Perform



                        Happily,



                                Gladly,



                                       Joyfully, 



                                                Gleefully



                        They Dance.



                              Poetry in Motion.



                   







                        Words are Falling Leaves



                        Gracefully Downward



                             Drifting



                                     Gently



                                           Lightly



                        To the Earth



                        







                        The Earth is warm



                        The wet clay Living



                                              Thriving



                                                   Flourishing



                        Under the Sunshine







                        The Sunshine is many



                        Sparkling eyes



                                      Misery



                                            Smiles 



                                                and Madness



                        The Sunshine is Words.

                        Moonlight on a path.



                        a branch cracks in the darkness.



                        a cat runs away.

                        Trembling pools of light.



                        Shimmering on the dry ground.



                        The sun through green leaves.

                        ESCAPE!



                         Green forests



                            Blue skies



                               White clouds



                        The river comes from the wild land.







                        Glistening waves



                            Muddy waves



                               Blanketing waves.



                         The waves spread aimlessly.



                        Shifting mass



                            Perfect form



                                 Endless form



                        The river never leaves







                        Blending colors



                            Solid masses



                                People awed







                        Scene of ideal joy.

                                Cold Blanket



                                White Cloud.



                        The morning mist nips the land



                             and the warm yellow sun



                        shining in the treetops



                        is only a distant runner



                           while the unseen queen



                              clothed in milk-white splendor



                        reigns in her hour.







                        The soil, the trees



                        even the river itself



                            wear her silver robes.



                        The cold brown earth



                        bathes in her silver light



                           as Wagnerian themes



                          melt into a lucid hour



                        and the queen disappears



                                leaving us life.

                        The blazing sun has burned 



                                                the tired earth



                        The sundrops have nourished 



                                                the flourishing leaves



                        And the flowers have bloomed



                                             been spent



                                             and all died.



                        When the wind returns



                                 and turns



                                   the wheel



                        and the cycle, not a circle, 



                                    starts again.





                        Life moves, and the languid tableau of summer



                                turns to a quicker step.



                        In the middle world of sun and air



                                  it turns to a quicker step



                        and the wind blows through Diana's hair.

                                Leaves float on the breeze.



                           Don't be deceived.



                        In the leaves



                           is all creation.



                          And in the leaves



                               in every graceful curve,



                            in crumbling red and brown



                               is the eternal riddle



                                   Leaves float not indifferently.



                            What's unknown to you and me



                               they hold in silent mystery



                        The Dance is life.

                        I never knew who you were



                        but I have known you always.



                        I have never seen your face



                        but I have seen the purple sunset



                           the green grass



                              the snow white mountain



                                  and the blue------explosion.



                        the blue, the fiery blue, the ice-cold blue, 



                                                        the sky, the sea



                        the thousand shades and moods of blue



                                the colors, yes.



                        and I have seen in the seasons



                              falling leaves,



                                 the morning's eye



                                     the drifting flakes



                                               and life.



                        The spring! and yet...







                          I have known you in a different way



                        You are you.



                                Sparkling eyes, sad eyes, laughing, 



                                                        crying eyes.



                        A pair of eye, eyes alone but eyes.



                        like seas.  And through your eyes I see



                                        To the depths of yourself.



                                     It is known.

                        Blue, beyond gray, beyond green.



                        Extension of myself.



                        in Jungle-forest



                        Try to run thorough the grass, 



                        man knows not what it is, 



                        only thorough definition you destroy me.



                        What is the wind?

                        The dance, the dance



                           pick it up again.



                             the dance is not always



                                a quick-stepping reel.



                        







                       Sometimes we dance



                                  we dance alone



                        I've danced to dirges



                          and to the cries of the damned



                        as into the Pit they fell.







                       



                       If the Dance is life



                           the life is the Dance



                          the Dance is acceptance



                             of every sad moment



                             and every wretched tear.

                        Books and ashes,



                        leaves fall down



                        Sprightly and singly they fall



                           Twirling and spinning



                        'round the old oak.



                        Children released from the tree.



                        Where is their life?



                        Where do they go?



                        What can they do?



                        Can you tell me?



                        Myriads of leaves



                        twirling and spinning



                        sprightly and singly they fall.

                        What is memory



                        but an abstraction 



                        of an abstraction?



                        How can we know



                        and do we be,



                        or are we



                        only God's imagination?



                        I often wonder



                        if we are real



                        or if we are we or if I am me.



                        Myself --



                        in the word is all the world



                        the world full of ideas, passions, feelings and hopes



                        the body, the mind, the spirit, the soul



                        is it a word full of all that



                        or is it meaningless, empty, a void?



                        We live in doubt,



                        never knowing--for sure--



                        what lies beyond this world we call our minds.

                        Charter member



                        six to five



                        it is ever



                        is it live?



                        Knowst thou hooo?



                        Roses bloom and die



                        (Death's the secret, 



                        death's release



                        Hush! We must not know.)



                        In snow in roses, overgrow,



                        roses in the snow, 



                        in driven dust-white purity



                        everlasting



                        ever green



                        ever color.



                        See the top,



                        spinning bright, 



                        who will be a bride tonight?



                        Darkness descends upon the house.



                        Can you live with it



                        or must you die?



                        Into the cold fire, 



                        ice cold.







                        Lollipops and rainbows



                        are the trappings of the upper world.



                        but they are only seem.



                        Descend to the musky dearths.



                        I am the Traveller



                        I go.



                          you go too



                        but we will not go together.







                        Spinning roses



                        spinning faces



                        spinning wheels



                        Spinderella pricked her finger 



                        and slept on her glass slipper



                        and slipped on a banana peel



                        to go



                             FLYING



                        Up and over and above



                        the world as we know it.



                        Back again



                        Here I am



                        but don't you know



                        I've always been here



                        waiting for you,



                        Oh, won't you please go too.



                        I love you



                        it sounds like a lie



                        but I mean it.



                        well, in a certain way



                        and I want to show you how to get somewhere



                          but I know you won't listen



                          'cause you've gone somewhere else.



                        Seems like everyone's like that.



                        You see I'll never know



                        if they're travelling.



                        I guess I'll just have to sit here.



                        Who knows what lies beyond 



                           this little prison that I'm in?



                        I don't 



                           you don't either



                        (see out of your prison, do you?)



                        I know you don't 



                        You see



                        but



                        we cannot experience reality directly



                        That's it,



                        isn't it?



                        From our cells we cannot touch, cannot know, 



                        only think.



                        and me with you with me with you



                        and we with him and her and them.



                        We can only think and hope



                        but never know



                        and so 



                        We live.

                         April is the cruellest month, breeding



                         Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing



                         Memory with desire, stirring



                         Dull roots with spring rain



                                -- from The Wasteland by T.S. Eliot











                        On Shakespeare's stage



                        From on his throne



                        An English kind intones:



                        "This is the season of our discontent"







                       Indeed.







                       December's branches creak,



                        leaves long gone



                        And I tread



                        empty



                        amid the ruins



                        on a dead earth.



                        







                       A vision, a summer breeze



                        and memories flow (Neva, Neva)



                        into my mind (guilded river)



                        Ah, Leningrad!



                          My lips, ghost moved, speak 



                           and almost chant the word



                             -- Byelie Nochi --



                            Mysterious and delicate 



                                Midsummer nights



                            are gone so far away



                        I have left the summer in another land



                        



                        Winter's wind blows amid the trash



                          and slashes my face



                        And the brown earth (ugly despot)



                          laughs mockingly.



                        



                        But as the temperature falls



                        a word



                        a word is heard



                        it is whispered on the busses



                        and spoken aloud only by children



                        In the hollows of the buildings



                        sheltered from the wind



                        they mutter the word



                        The coming of peace and beauty



                        ----- Snow -----



                        The cold-bitten and miserable



                        have the prayer in their hearts 



                            (in their minds



                             and on their lips)



                        



                        Veni, veni 



                          and the snow will be proclaimed



                                by the children



                          Their noses pressed to the



                                window panes



                          Their breath clouds on the glass



                          Their advent joyous waiting



                        Come, Gentle One and drift into my heart



                                  like the snowflakes



                        and wrap me in your warm 



                                   blanket of frost



                        Cover me like a child cuddled



                               to his mother's warm breast.



                           Cover me like the snow



                              until it releases its dew in springtime



                                        Vita Aeterna