Phaedra And The Depiction Of Artistic Fidelity

In her young artist’s eye, the storm

Clouds are menacing

Frenetic grey and black

Jagged squiggles raining

Down long drawn-out

Swaths of green on

The heads of three purplish-

Red poppies, one of which is

Being caressed by

A long thin penciled right arm

Belonging to a young sun-

Glasses-wearing mop-

Headed red-haired girl holding

In her left hand something

Resembling a leafless tree,

Its ten green limbs radiating

Out from the center, each

Gangly arm dangling one

Black, glob-like fruit--

In other words, a fantastic

Child’s umbrella!—instead of your usual

Plain, black, grownup one, the likes

Of which most of us would more

Than likely mistakenly take it for.

Pierian Spring Redux

What to do, what to do? 

All around us, simple 
Things so profound 
As water rises, water falls— 

What to do, what to do? 
Keep to the high ground, 
Drink deep, too. 

You Talkin' To Me, Janus?

I’ll tell you this much, love—the more 
We hate others unlike us, the less 
Hate we have for ourselves. 

Out To Lunch In The Land Of The Free Besieged

a 

small 

red-

handled 

pale

blue 

picnic 

basket 

has 

been 

left 


on

top 

of 

a 

bullet- 

riddled 

freshly 

painted 

white 

wall, 


help 

your

selves. 

Never Enough Food For Thought

--for all caregivers, everywhere 


Watching Eleni feeding 
My mother-in-law who doesn’t 
Know where she is, who’s feeding her 
Or what it is she’s eating anymore, I can't help
But wonder at her painstaking patience, 

As she tenderly puts back into that mouth 
That once lulled her to sleep, nourishment 
That keeps wanting to trickle down 
Those spent octogenarian cheeks, much 
Like her mother was wont to do when 

One after another, she found herself 
With six hungry young mouths to feed, 
And where no one ever forgot that 
Never having enough food was always 
More than just a thought.