Monthly Archives: April 2010

Statues in the Park

  In the park. The sun broke over the horizon      wiping away the chocolate stains of night      on the childish face of the park      where the workmen bathed in the morning dew      and sweat         and … Continue reading

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Random Thoughts on an Interactive Poem

  When I was young, I imagined that almost every living thing around me was capable of reasoning. I imagined that trees and flowers were aware. I wondered if roses hurt when I cut them for the vase. I cringed when … Continue reading

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A Letter to a Fan

      Thank you for your kind note and the letters from your students  who read and wrote reviews of my poetry. To my knowledge, this is the first time I have ever been taught in a class and … Continue reading

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What Where You Thinking When You Wrote, “I Am a Poem, Bisensual?”

  A living poem speaks for itself, No matter what the poet felt.

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The Unreality of Reality

  There’s things too strange to be conceived, But not too strange to be believed. One is a poem, unusual, I Am a Poem, Bisensual

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I Can’t Control It

  I know. My email has been going crazy after I published the interactive, experimental poem, "I Am a Poem, Bisensual."   First of all, you can’t say I didn’t warn you. I tried to tell you, all of you. … Continue reading

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I Am a Poem, Bisensual

______________________________________________________Caution: This is an experimental, interactive poem.It is a living, sentient being, bisensual and bisexual.If you read it, as you read, it may make love to you.______________________________________________________      I Am a Poem, Bisensual   I hear you, hear you … Continue reading

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Something New . . . a Metamorphosis

  I dreamed a dream of fantasy In which a muse appeared to me, Inquired of me, What would I be If anything at all I could be?   A poem, I said, I would like to be. "Then, you a … Continue reading

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Something New, This Way Is Coming

  I dreamed a dream of fantasy In which a muse appeared to me, Inquired of me, What would I be If anything at all I could be?   And I answered . . ..   This weekend, something new … Continue reading

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A Visit to New York City, in Hiabun

  Central Park. Mid-afternoon. The lunchroom is closed, the offimatons back in cubicles, stacked in stories. Styrofoam plates, street dogs and white paper sandwich wraps fill the trash bins. Cups. An elderly woman in sunglasses annoys the pigeons with taps … Continue reading

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