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';
...

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.
...

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.
...

'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!
...

I left my mittens in the Smokies.
It was that night at Maddron Bald on the ridge
after we'd hiked from Davenport Gap -
12 miles,4,000 feet.
...

The golfers leave early -
September or October -
it's just you and the hickories,
the asters, the goldenrod -
...

When the cold seeps through your skin,
thinking how many times you've walked here alone
when you might have been lying in the arms of lovers,
warm and comforting,
...

It was cold.
Night.
January, I think.
I was wearing long underwear.
...

I remember how you used to care for the flowers
and arrange the vegetables at the stand.
How carefully you drove the tractor.
...

I
'She's lovely... so natural.'
A corpse pumped full of formaldehyde.
My grandmother? That prodigious maker of
...