When I was in the seminary, I was taunted by one of my classmates: “Let’s discuss Golden’s philosophy of life.”  Almost fifty years later, here it is.  At some point, I shall contact this person and direct him to read my poem as his penance. This was my first homework assignment from God.  After I … More The Last Lay Lost

In Memory:  Cheryl Gagnon   How have they flown? Did they spiral upwards in a circle, A cloud of wings aspiring? Or, were they driven down And outwards, the hurling fists Of an animal madness? What is this place bequeathed? A wormy lair to snare The most beautiful feather? As if it were an old … More The Bird Tree In Winter

For T. M.   When I was young, but grown, On the sandspit of a lake called Minatare, I witnessed him walk through a litter of glass. In the whiteness of the noon-tide, The glass bits glistered like gem stones. Above, he shimmered in the waves of heat, More beautiful as an aged man, Than … More The Angel of Light

For W. P.   “Reality, and its insubordinate dream.” From: “The Pumpkin Eater.” Penelope Mortimer   Walking through the rain For no good reason. No umbrella, nor bright, Yellow slicker with a hood. Darkly dressed, but not depressed. No need to impress, Or be the least convincing, today. Now, feeling the incessant drops Begin to … More A Winter’s Walk

For F. R. Taylor   TAOS   Hands shield the eyes. Viewed from an escarpment, Across the horizon, Mountains are black with forest, But hazed in light. A granitic cloud with a corona Keeps their summits a sacred secret.   The heart aches for Taos; It is nowhere to be seen.   Searching the plain, … More The Holy City

Two girls shimmy their tummies To the frenetic beats of a hula, Their upper torsos ever poised, Their arms, their hands, Languid fronds in the breezes of dance.   A boy, his elbows akimbo, Hops and skips in place, his feet Endlessly scissoring the rhythms.   The little ones, Set free by their parents, Squirming, … More Whole and Complete

I choose not to revise these poems, imperfect as they are.  I shall let them testify to a mastery that is still in progress.   I The mourning sky is in stasis, bereft Of both starling and star.  Beneath its pall, Trekkers through a snow-waste feel the slow theft Of their senses.  Blinded by White, … More Four First Songs (To Remember Richard Strauss)

“The great light cage has broken up in the air, Freeing, I think, about a million birds.” From “Rain Towards Morning”, By Elizabeth Bishop   Balanced on a mountain’s tip, The white orb’s rays Illuminate a cirrus cloud, The aspiration of a Creator. As He inhales, as He exhales, The veil of breath grows thicker, … More Swallows

Dedicated To Alla Gallagher   I open the door to dawn.   Alone in the park, Under a gnarled bough Still filled with night, A silver-haired woman Makes beautiful gestures. She dances a script That is sculpting the air.   I grant an audience,   For this ballet has consequence. She raises an arm precisely … More The Queen of Atlantis (In Jefferson Square)

In Memory:  Toni Hardley   Pink petals, white petals, drifting downwards, Beautify the graves of the earth. The flower veil falls away, and leafy spears, Tinged a reddish black against the bark, Sprout to guard a ripening hoard. Life slowly sobers into the gravitas of fruit. At the heart of each, a bitter, indigestible stone … More The Pink and the White