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Mustering What's Left - Selected & New Poems - 1976-2017


. . . unresting death, a whole day nearer now, . . . From: Philip Larkin ďAubadeĒ

It hovers, like the stink of sulfur or bad blood, wakes you in the night, squats on the edge of your bed staring into space, unmindful of your sweat, your knotted fingers or your trembling lips.

Itís then the darkness closes over, leaving you gasping for air, staring into the chasm where no one speaks & nothing moves & you are now, for the first time, completely, eternally & forever alone.

In memory of Neil Lehrman

Barcelona Diary
It's Mother's Day
By Dawn's Early Light at 120 Miles Per Hour
The Man With His Back To The Room
Intimacies, Prose. Poems and Stories
Homage to a Widow
It's Only TV
Improvisations - Chapbook
After Goya
Improvisations - From Contemporary Music
Mustering What's Left