Lucius Furius

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.
...

You will say it was quite unintentional,
this leaving the building without saying good-bye.
('Can't I depart, just once,
thinking only of daisies and chocolate pudding? ...')
...

Your demure expression,
the unfailing grace with which you meet
the small misfortunes which we meet each day.
...

[A child of indeterminate sex- either a delicate-featured boy or a tomboy-ish girl-,9 or 10 years old, enters the chamber where the United States Council of Artists is meeting.]

'Is this the United States Council of Artists? '
[The Chairman of the Council responds: ] 'Yes. Who are you? '
...

J. Alfred, I'm sick of your whining -
get off your butt and do something!

Yes, I know life is meaningless.
...

Oh Rick, if only things were so simple....
If only there were Nazis shooting children,
bullies like Major Strasser waiting to take over,
women like Ilsa -
...

Rembrandt, you maniac!
While other guys were down at the local tavern,
drinking and playing cards,
- or off visiting Paris -,
...

John Brown, you scare me!
You look like a man possessed by a demon.
You look like a man who could kill his son.
You look like a man who believes in a principle,
...

Pocahontas, Little Snow-Feather*,
what possessed you to marry that pale stranger*,
to cross the blue, blue Atlantic,
leaving behind your mother and your father?
...

'23: July 24'
'24: October 5'
'25: February 19'
'26: December 14'
...

How distant my Swabian* youth seems now.
I made a glider which really flew, you know.*
Not far, but yes, it carried me! I soared!
...