Adage My eyes see unapproachable things– but is first glance always correct? Don’t judge a book by its cover is something I repeat
Wide as the Summer Dusk A blur of worlds at elevations where heaven starts, indistinguishing space, clouds, rain and the very tops, land and
Lizzy’s Sonnet Seemingly no place to go That inner voice now quiet, asleep While rages ‘round the burlesque show That is life, the one that’s
Atop the Acropolis Swimming uphill through the heat to the lip of the Acropolis, I touch every cut and broken stone as if comforting
ON A THEME OF MATTHEW ARNOLD’S The scholar gypsy never moved. He stayed as still as the center of a record. No sound escaped
Canzone Late summer’s clouds flame-out. The cresting sun- rise slashes pink and mauve upon the sea. One might mistake Frank for some favorite son.