Tag Archives: F. Scott Fitzgerald

Wistful

“It was back into the mind of the young man with cardboard soles who had walked the streets of New York.  I was him again—for an instant I had the good fortune to share his dreams, I who had no … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Cracked Plate

“Sometimes, though, the cracked plate has to be retained in the pantry, has to be kept in service as a household necessity.  It can never again be warmed on the stove nor shuffled with the other plates in the dishpan; … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry, Prose | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

All That Jazz

“Now once more the belt is tight and we summon the proper expression of horror as we look back at our wasted youth.  Sometimes, though, there is a ghostly rumble among the drums, an asthmatic whisper in the trombones that … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Swing

After the deluge, the horns lost their bright voices– Swing low, sweet chariot.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

F. Scott Fitzgerald

Breastfed by the Muse, cradled in a green womb, warm– fool of the moon, torn.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment