A Yound Boy's Prayer
Look at me, I stand before You;
I have no shirt, no shoes.
I’m only a young boy, only a child;
Look at me, or are you blind?
Talk to me, answer me;
To whom shall I call, if not to You?
On my knees I come to You;
Talk to me, or are you dumb?
Hear my prayer, hear my voice;
I’m only a person, not only a number.
Only praise have I always had for You;
Hear my prayer, or are You deaf?
Save me from the Nazi ovens;
If I die, my beliefs also die.
I have no water, no bread;
Save me, or are You also dead?
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Amtrak Angel
The seat beside me is empty
No Circe with golden curls;
No charming dazzling maiden.
Where are the dimpled girls?
I long to chat with someone
of the gracious, tender sex;
my taste is for the lovelies
with long and slender necks.
Ah, my Amtrak angel,
sit here by my side:
at 85 I’m harmless-
relax, enjoy the ride.
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Prayer
Come rain, come shine,
come cold, come hot,
I thank Thee, Lord,
for what I’ve got.
Come health, come pain,
come joy, come sorrow,
I thank Thee, Lord,
for each tomorrow.
Come good, come bad,
come life, come death,
I thank Thee, Lord,
For every breath.
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The Old Guy
Look at the old guy, she said.
At fifteen a sixty-seven year old
bicycle rider must appear strange,
an affront to her sense of propriety,
anomalous as a grandfather
playing Romeo.
But maybe she meant:
look at that terrific old guy-
legs and thighs like iron
bare chested, tan as a lifeguard---
I hope my daddy looks like him
when he’s an old man.
Or maybe she meant:
Look at that crazy old guy,
trying to look and act young;
he should be riding a rocking chair.
Maybe…
She’s got her nerve.
The hell with her.
But I am a n old guy.
Not old old.
Old
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Tiger at the Window
Famine-sightless, soundless-
engulfs the dessicated earth.
Children’s bellies swell like melons
in a fruitful Eden, collapse
like wombs of sterile women.
Arms and legs wither-
fat, flesh, and muscle
cannibalized by the shrinking body.
Flies crawl in eyes,
nostrils, ears, pullulating sores.
Locked in our home,
every entrance bolted,
we try to escape.
A tiger, white in the moonlight,
Appears at a window,
crashes through the glass.
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To My Wife-In Memoriam
I miss your hand in mine
As we walked at ocean’s edge.
I miss the sly perfume
Of your black, silken hair.
I miss your lips on mine
Your murmuring in my ear,
Offering luscious delights.
I miss the ripeness of your breasts
In my caressing hands,
The rough passion that left us
Gentle, trembling, and laughing.
I miss the closeness of silence,
That sharing that needs no words,
I miss our playful love,
The lodestar of our lives.
I miss telling you,
“You are my only love.”
Oh, my sweetheart, my wife,
My one, my only love,
How I miss you.
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