Category Archives: Poetry

Consequences

     I wonder sometimes, how much adult opinions about youth are colored by adult experience instead of youth memory. It seems like I’ve known forever that nostalgia is hogwash: remembering the angst of adolescence as “the carefree, best time in … Continue reading

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Dial Tone

     When I was a teenager during the 1960s, we didn’t have cell phones. There were no personal computers. The Internet hadn’t been built. When I and the other boomers grew up we were in a culture a bit ahead … Continue reading

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Black Hole

   I’ve known a number of damaged people in my time. Mostly they were the victims of narcissistic or religious parents and many of them also suffered early loss of a sibling or other close relative with no opportunity to talk, … Continue reading

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Protest Poem

   Up the street from our house in Chula Vista was the high school, and behind the high school was undeveloped land. It was a place of sand and clayey soil, tumbleweed and manzanita, rattlesnakes and rodents and small birds. This … Continue reading

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Good Friday, Riding Westward

    John Donne is one of my favorite poets. Most years I read his divine poem on Good Friday, and I send love to the close friends I have who are believers. I started this sonnet in 1998 and just … Continue reading

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Kid Prayers

     My parents were not very observant, and although they always belonged to a temple my father expressed consistent distrust of organized religion. Even so, they taught me to pray. Or Mom did, anyway. She helped me memorize that childhood … Continue reading

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Perspective

   Today is traditional tax day. They’ve provided a little extension this year, as if tax returns were term papers, but April 15 is a time when it’s natural to contemplate our system. Usually I’m not negative. But sometimes I sink … Continue reading

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Eloi 1966

     I found this in the old poetry folder. I was 16 when I wrote it. I was starting my senior year of high school. The Summer of Love would come right after graduation. I remember that I composed it … Continue reading

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Campfire

     When I was 43 I backpacked for the last time. I’m sure of that, because the highlight of the trip was its ending. I would have paid a hundred times what I did for that hot shower. Not that … Continue reading

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Money Love

I got into the footlocker recently, and found a tattered folder titled “My Poetry.” It contains the first poem I remember writing (published in my third post in this blog, last July) and I smiled to read that I remembered … Continue reading

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