Lucius Furius Poems

Lounging in the dry warmth of the sun,
overcome by the beauty of the green cliffs
rising above the hypnotic blue water....
...

Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her,
Alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams
And our desires. Although she strews the leaves
Of sure obliteration on our paths, …
...

I cried at Field of Dreams.
It wasn't Dad I was thinking of -
it was you -
us, lobbing that ball
...

I would have given you a perfect faith,
belief, unassailable and absolute;
joy's well-spring.
I offer only a substitute - these poems,
...

Here's to those who suffer voluntarily,
who rise above the mean and merely momentary
pleasure that we feel sitting on a couch,
eating Cheetos, watching reruns of 'The Brady Bunch';
...

I
I've never hit my children.
My own father spanked me perhaps ten times:
for riding my bike on a busy street,
...

Death!
seems y've won;
body's resistance,
all worn down.
...

Kate Larson, Carol Ulverness-
19-year-old goddesses
I knew at college:
beauty so inward and effortless-
...

In youth, we knew great passion -
but tossed it aside,
thinking it easily found again.
...

You don't really need me, do you?

Oh, you enjoy being with me.
You enjoy kissing me.
...