Maydust

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This wide-ranging and moving collection of poems, first published in 1968, explores the meanings and manifestations of life and living, with all their joys and sorrows. As the author writes: It is neither necessary nor desired, at least on my part, to be very explicit as to why or how creations, or perhaps the opposite, come about. It would be a mechanical dissection, a baking of clay into a form. I therefore humbly declare that I will discard whenever required, retain whenever useful, and abandon whenever necessary. Many years have passed and blown words hither and thither. Time seems to have erased the last remnants of romanticism, never embraced to the fullest, or perhaps not even touched. No, the winds blow from another direction, compelling me to be as I am. Dreaming-yes, but rather broadly, about, or within a vague linguistic jungle. Claims I make none, but rather cross the territory where such are made and violently defended.

Long Ago and Now

Come then my children:

Let us play within the sandbox of creation.

You build the castles and I’ll be the sand.

You have forgotten-

Searching madly in your forms and substances-

I never left.

And yet you do not know nor see.

— from Maydust