on permanent loan from “Zelig”

I’ve witnessed the burning of the Hindenburg, and saw

the ponies tossed to the deep Sargasso in the doldrums

of the Horse Latitudes.

I was there when "Teddy ballgame" hit one into

the right field stands at Fenway during his last at bat,

and saw them carry Marylin Monroe to the hearse, where

I touched the hem of her pall.

I defined the last time I saw the face of God

as not in my image nor the image of anyone I know or have known.

I held the line of the pulley which hauled “Pinky” Imbriglio

from the black waters below the granite ledge on the outskirts of mill-town,

where this morning I sat with Garciá Lorca, chatting on the merits

of a meditating lizard.

in the beginning I confessed to Priest whatever I thought

would be titillating to both of us.

I have no external warts nor moles to report, but someday soon

something will show-up worthy enough to be reported by someone else.

I write poems, not because it's a devoted vocation, but because,

well,–– I don't know why.