I am originally from Flushing, Queens. I went to Queens College and graduated in 1973 with a B.A. in Drama & Theatre. I began writing poetry when I was in high school. Also, I am a painter, starting from about 1969. I have been published in many online magazines and some print magazines.
RUNNING BY RIVERMOUTH
1. I loved you when it was proper to love, wrapped in coats of red, the shine wrapped in cellophane, duct tape, sugar and salt; Viruses have spread, rocketing like demons, redeeming nothing Is it so proper anymore? Is the quarantine complete? Are we wrapped instead in our mutual demise? 2. Sweat and excavation Lilith was a lady who bent the devil’s ear one who can endure excessive force hold on to yourself; my arms are the straitjacket I am buried in; we can go tomorrow; i can drive when the rain settles its grudge with the ground green on my heels the moss-laden question marks of bent knees, furtive kisses; hills that were bent up and out by tectonic orgy this is where i will bring you 3. incorporate the dawn silence the giraffe, already neck-weakened the farthest part of the field for me it will come in may when i least expect it, the leaden dread before another hungry anniversary before the siege of summer lightning bends its forms to match my fears in a cloud of grey suspicion that covers my tired eyes 4. 1967. Chance of rain and heart- break. Camera, borrowed, burns a glimpse of love into my eyes; black and white no doubt the truth; brick by brick I shape the faces into my wall, life between sconces, chemistry of words – her mouth was his master; random notes of promises of conscience, of slipping and sliding lazy plants grew like weeds in my brain; no history here; the screen mends itself fire and shame of waking eyes; inject a life into me snowflakes by the bushel sprinkled on the corn I must be in a dream post-mortem for a slow-going past or future; looking at the clock with the temperatures full moon departure lowdown in the swamp lake haste lake broad barrel lake iron spigot barely reaching to the tower unswung upswirled sun will rise plastering the sky night howls save their barking for the death hour sun boils in its own heat running by river-mouth I stand where I once lived dying in the blaze of a once-sunset but do not die at all