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....
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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, …
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I cried at Field of Dreams.
It wasn't Dad I was thinking of -
it was you -
us, lobbing that ball
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I would have given you a perfect faith,
belief, unassailable and absolute;
joy's well-spring.
I offer only a substitute - these poems,
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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';
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Marco! One minute you seemed perfectly healthy,
the next you were sprawled on the floor by the drinking fountain
like a sack of potatoes.
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Sweet Earth, each molecule of me has come from you.
Sesame seed, broken into amino acids and calcium,
became my tiny bones; bananas, potassium,
the cells of my brain.
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How quick we move from labor nurses' hands,
wrapping us in a diaper, to taxidermists',
artfully arranging our limbs in the casket.....
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If only I could do with my words what you,
with your arms and legs and hands, do,
girl of the Tzabarim dance.
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O Babylon! Your God is a sport-utility vehicle, a VCR, and a two-car garage!
You delight in images of killing and artificially-large-breasted women!
Your arteries are clogged with Big Macs and a thousand pieces of Kentucky- Fried Chicken!
Your God is Technology. Your God is Progress.
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