I am a 71 year old, retired, police and fire dispatcher for the city of San Francisco. I have known from adolescence that I am a poet, but I largely put off writing poetry until I felt compelled by circumstances This moment of recognition was a terrible way to fall awake. I started writing seriously, if sporadically, in 2007. The purpose of building a web site for the poetry is not to promote it, but to acknowledge it by preserving it.
A Lakeland Benediction In Memory of Stephen Gould ! ! Old Main. There are secret graffiti written on the walls of its tower room. Rather than delinquent scribbling, by now they have acquired an aura From the passing centuries akin to inscriptions on tombstones, Albeit more encrypted. The wind that howls is oblivious. No roosting owls, no hiding mice carry any … More A Lakeland Benediction
Dedicated To Dr. Stephen Gould ! Professing A Portrait ! Bossard was a homely house out of a tale. Old, it was. How many of its chapters could be read between the clapboards? I advanced through a parlor with a piano no one dared play. I found him in the nest of small offices pushed … More Professing A Portrait
! There Is Always Hope In Memoriam: Dr. Stephen Gould ! ! That first day, I sat facing the intimidating poster Of a master novelist, a Nobel laureate (Hemingway). I listened to Dr. Gould place the call to ask, “Who is this?” I hardly knew the answer myself. At Lakeland, how many times did I walk In the woods to … More There Is Always Hope/2nd Iteration
! There Is Always Hope In Memoriam: Dr. Stephen Gould ! ! A half century ago, back in old Bossard Hall, A homely building long since demolished, I sat in his office facing the intimidating poster Of a master novelist, a Nobel laureate (Hemingway). Wary (scared), feeling like a de facto refugee, I listened to him … More There Is Always Hope
! In Dublin, A Woman’s Voice Third Iteration “In Petto,” Dedicated To Three ! ! It is an excelling French restaurant In an old city quarter not far from St. Stephen’s Green. I sit under a canopy, cordoned off. All around in the alley, shoulder to shoulder covivialists Speak incessantly, or stand side by side drinking. ! Bedecked in evening dress, I … More In Dublin, A Woman’s Voice, 3rd Iteration
! In Dublin, A Woman’s Voice Second Iteration Dedicated to F. R. T. ! It is an excelling French restaurant In an old city quarter not far from St. Stephen’s Green. I sit under a canopy, cordoned off. All around in the alley, shoulder to shoulder covivialists Speak incessantly, or stand side by side drinking. ! Bedecked in evening dress, I see … More In Dublin, A Woman’s Voice, 2nd Iteration
! The Three Fates, St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin ! All the world’s Greens should be sanctified as saints. Parks are havens for ancient art, for artists creating. Strollers conceive the future as an insubordinate dream. In St. Stephen’s Green, The Three Fates confound eternity By being the fullness of time. Past Fate, Present Fate connive. Future Fate waits apart. ! This first sister … More The Three Fates, St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin
! In Dublin, A Woman’s Voice First Iteration Dedicated to D. S. ! It is an excelling French restaurant In an old city quarter not far from St. Stephen’s Green. I sit under a canopy, cordoned off. All around in the alley, shoulder to shoulder covivialists Speak incessantly, or stand side by side drinking. ! Bedecked in evening dress, I see her … More In Dublin, A Woman’s Voice
! Days Of Power Dedicated To Michael Karl ! The Eve Of “Compete!” (Processed. Examined. Weighed.) ! As the doors to Tucson Strength open, A rookie lifter, I step into check-in chaos. Michael is quick to assess: “I’ll wait for you in the car.” I cool my heels in a huddle. Seated next to my stance, A woman lifts her … More Days Of Power
! Boxing Forward Dedicated To Lizetta Smith, And, 41 Lines For Josiah, Aged 41 Years ! We enter our “fight club” as chance selects us, Huddle there only to talk and laugh. As usual, Coach Lizetta intervenes by raising a glove, Followed by our captain, Karen, aka “99” Shouting, “Listen Up.!” Silenced to attention, we rivet our sight On the curling paper taped to the mirror. … More Boxing Forward
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