jimmy blass Poems

Lerner and Holder
Went up the hill
To testify on matters
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ON REACHING 80

(To Dwight Meeks on his eightieth)
...

Snow, a sprinkling
No, more a dusting
No, a bit more
It's pretty
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The trees are bare
The leaves have fell
The morns have frost
It’s cold as hell
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There is no sky.
There are no clouds.
The world about is gone.
No birds arrive
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I once dreamed
of an idyllic place

A time where I sat in a chair
in a sunlit room
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How blest the cohort of the depression
Our fathers lived in trenches
Then ten years without the Demon
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The spring's impetuous grass,
Springing through late winter snow,
Marked by blooming forsythia,
Conquer the unyielding changes of March.
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What is a beautiful woman?
Is it the tilt of the head?
The ratio of the physiognomy?
The form of the body?
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I wait the vaunted wind to rise,
While gazing on the icy bough.
The night has brought a beauteous sight
Of hanging limbs bedecked in white
...