On A Light Side: To Paint The Portrait Of A Bird

By: Sunday August 24, 2014 6:45 pm

When I grew up in France Jacques Prevert was my favorite poet. He once said that war would not be such a bad thing if it only killed soldiers. He allowed a generation to break the artificial boundaries of rhyme and rhythm. Here is my translation of one of my favorite poems.


chasing hank snow all the way to brooklyn nova scotia

By: Wednesday October 23, 2013 4:00 pm

hearing john mellencamp
 ask america
what’s left of our soul
like who do we want to impress
the exxons of the world
or the folks
sinking & slipping
off the side

Late Night: Kim Fowley Is the Lord of Garbage

By: Tuesday September 24, 2013 8:00 pm

I met Kim Fowley, the man who discovered created the Runaways, when I was 16, and at the time I thought he was the scariest man on earth. Tall, skinny with huge deep-set eyes and giant teeth, he had a rapid fire series of phrases he’d rattle off as he leered.

RIP: Seamus Heaney, Irish Poet, Nobel Laureate

By: Saturday August 31, 2013 5:20 pm

Nobel Laureate and Irish poet Seamus Heaney, whose work affected and influence generations, has died at age 74. Heaney, born in County Londonderry, Northern Ireland, is considered the greatest Irish poet since Yeats. He also was someone I knew as brother-in-law of one of my oldest friends, so the loss hits on a personal level. He and his wife, Marie herself the author of several books including Over Nine Waves, A Book of Irish Legends, lived in Sandymount, Co. Dublin, in a house with gardens overflowing with plants and flowers.

I Didn’t Mean To Write About Trayvon Martin

By: Friday July 12, 2013 9:15 am

America, it hurts my feelings
Each time it’s implied
That we can look the other way
Each time a black boy dies

Late Night: Poetry Slam

By: Monday February 25, 2013 8:00 pm

Marilyn Hacker is one of my favorite poets. I found her work by accident, by reading this online and then I went out and devoured everything she’d written.

We’ll Take a Cup of Kindness Yet

By: Saturday January 1, 2011 8:10 am

Too many New Year’s Eves will come and go before humanity drinks from that Cup of Kindness Robert Burns spoke of in his classic poem, Auld Lang Syne. When that day comes, it will be because people in this degraded world finally listened to writers, poets, singers and songwriters, who’ve been the conscience of humanity ever since the lies of the first kings ignited the first wars and four thousand years of killing for gold and power began on the ancient battlegrounds of the Middle East.

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