Blank Verse

. Surviving the Cultural Revolution Why should this tourist want to take my picture? I’m just a woman who is very old--- He photographs me as I sweep the streets And gather trash to justify my rice. What could I tell this foolish, shallow man Whose camera records but cannot...

. Five Dappled Things A weave of twigs upon the ground; five eggs, cream white, flecked with gray. An ark dislodged —a callous jay or heartless wind— the nest set down. A slant of sun, an ark of twigs. a future vanishing. Five dappled things upon the ground. . ....

. Living Dead The riffled rush of water mingles withThe wind among the Ponderosa pinesAs damp chill of late summer mountain rainSoaks through my shirt and clings and binds it toMy skin as if I were a mummy wrappedIn strips of liquid linen, parodyOf Karloff’s walking dead, where echoes ofThe...

. An Unfortunate Encounter ---27 March 2025 A ragamuffin mob surrounded mewhilst on an errand, walking in the street.They pressed in close, they vied to shake my hand,distracting me---the foreigner. Then onecovertly lit a firecracker andhe dropped it in a pocket of the bagupon my back. They jeered, they squealed...

. Two Lyrics by Philodemus of Gadara translated from Greek by Joseph S. Salemi . V.124 Summertime has not yet cast off her buds Nor has the grape bunch turned to purple for you, The one near bursting with its maiden bloom. Already the young Cupids are at work Whetting...

. A Token of Espousal Sister Elisabetta Dardinelli Speaks Concerning the Token of Espousalof Saint Catherine de’ Ricci (1522-1590) Dixit mihi Dominus meus: Ne timeas, filia: Non rapiet tequisquam de manu mea. My Lord said to me: Be not afraid, daughter; no one willtake you from My hand.  —Carmelite Breviary...

. Americans in Florence Ooo David! Whoa, you’re well-hung! But why a foreskin, underslung? Your left hand, do you hold a sling or dead Goliath's severed thing? Stop giggling, girls, show some respect. You know we all must genuflect before Great Art. Meh, this is slop. C’mon, let’s go, we’re...

. Skellig Michael a remote island off the Irish coast A whispered, whistled wind resounds the echo Of the circling gannets’ raucous cry. While far below, the white noise, sea surge surf Collides with barren cliffs and wraps the Skellig Michael in a timeless shroud of mist. As like a...

. Aphrodisiac I. It was past midnight when we met and spoke One rainswept winter Friday. The wet street Stood empty save for us (that clinched the deal). God knows she was no beauty: unkempt, thin, A hard-luck face—but still with youthful bloom And amatory promise. Yes, of course I...

. Kristallnacht---The Night of Broken Glass I tell my son he must not make a sound. I whisper, “Karl, this attic is our haven. Don’t cry! Don’t let the brown shirts know we’re here!” Alfrida’s shaking. I must act much braver Than what I feel. What if they burn the...

. The Worst of Our Convictions When, finally, the last church shuts its doors; when we run out of new identities to choose from; when the politicians have enough of power and wealth to make sure they can always get a little more, and each is safely snuggled in the...

. The Harmonies of Holst While doing errands, driving roundabout, I listen to the classic music station. An orchestra plays a courtly lyric song. What can it be? I know it well, but how? Perhaps a ballad handed down through ages? I miss the tranquil host’s informed announcement, but hear...

. Rising with the Sap You would not call them blocks, those obscure streets Where people live. Their driftings trace the hem Of Manchester. I drove there once at dusk My windows down, in the sleepy perfume Of gardens and the insects’ dreamy jaw And passed a house whose screen...

. I Am the Stone I am the stone The humble stone the barefoot shepherd boy Selected from the muddy river bed; The stone which fit inside the sling he made As soon as he was given leave by Saul To fight for Israel in her time of need. I...

. Saint Sebastianus Sebastianus, soldier, pinioned, bleeding, Stands at his lonely and forgotten post Unperceived—no, even unsuspected— By the diseased and ulcerated world. Stomachs swollen with dyspeptic lust, Crisscrossing arrows of sharp competition, The noise and energy of the inane— All pass by him without a nod or glance. But...

. Kintsugi  There is an ancient practice in Japan--- Chipped and broken vessels, dear to hearts, Are mended with a striking golden blend. These cracked ceramics, kissed with artistry, Have former glory honorably restored. Each gleaming seam adds meaning to their worth. This emphasis of imperfection shows The wonder of destruction and rebirth--- The value of life’s scuffs and...

. Evra Our grandma Evra was a trifle difficult. If ever sound advice was needed she’d be there, But quiet, not a word until a person asked, And then she’d give it and you’d better listen ‘cause She never gave it twice—save once, and I’ll get back To that.  Her...

. La Campana Ring, grandfather! And ring for liberty. The bell spoke once and, speaking, croaked and cracked. Our gazes bathed its iron in gold hazes As Hebrews treasured tablets their sin split. Its silent iron: I will ring again. We have a problem---witnessed by the crack. The groan of...

. Le Bal Des Ardents for Joe Salemi On 28th January 1393 in Paris, Queen Isabeau of Bavaria, wife of the mad King Charles VI of France, held a ball which became the scene of a terrible tragedy when four members of the nobility, masquerading as “wild men,” were burned...

. Green I’m talking green: the greening ground Of spring and springing hope eternal; The spectrum’s hidden light unbound And animation of all that’s vernal; The pulsing new-found energy Of green, intoxicating green, Candescent with viridity. There is no other drug but green. . . The Luxuriance of Leaves What...

. The House on 58th Street for my father Salvatore J. Salemi (1913-2008) The house on 58th Street stood right by A cemetery—Calvary by name. Looking out our windows we could see A high stone wall, hand-fashioned of huge rocks (And to a child’s mind only giants could Have raised...

. Contract Murder No one is ever quite sure how it’s planned— What’s clear is that a grievance is expressed By injured parties, who directly make Complaints to the Commission, which in turn Investigates, considers, and decides. There are some instances where no one brings Specific charges—bad blood or distrust...

. Some Satirical Epigrams in hendecasyllabics (essentially trochaic pentameter with a dactyl for the second foot) . Complaint to a Complainer You complain all the time; about the weather, Other peoples’ affairs, your job, your pillow; So much so that it seems you’re only happy When you’re whining about one...

. Remorseless Back on 19, returning from the lake, Where she had stowed sling chairs for next week’s meet, Her car broke down. She checked out what she knew, Glad to have parked securely in the grass. She wondered whether to put up the hood, Decided not to stay, but...

. A Novice Speaks to a Guardian Tell me, Oh honoured one, The secret of the Way, Of how to live, to reach the place Of light! . The Guardian’s Reply Kid, train And work hard; doubt The self; gain all you lack To meet the best and worst; and...

. El Melon There is a maze or map on melon skin Even the blind could read and seek to solve. A little girl watches the housewives, deft, Touching the head shapes swiftly, one by one, Until they somehow know which to select. Sometimes they set it wobbling in the...

. La Sirena At some point they ceased to be beautiful. Even their voices. Bare breasts, bare arms, screams Savage as acid swamped the scholar-priest His reasoned teaching fading from his lips. Bare breasts, bare arms, black stripes across their eyes. The cover granted to anonymous hate. That doesn’t make...

. Time Travel I chance upon a sylvan glade, an Orphic place: moon threads, a lace of nightkin shadows. A trill of breeze awakes the guardian trees, live oaks in gowns of moss, tall runes of pine. I hear the soft slow sound of fairy rings, up from the inner...

. The Calendar You are the festive dregs of January,you liven February with Valentine’s.You are the March that gives spring sanctuary,you are the splashing rain April confines.You entertain the shaken buds of May,then are the shining June that bronzes all.You’re endless July---every holiday,you’re balmy August thwarting autumn’s pall.You are September’s...

. La Bandera “ never begins an attack, nor, when once engaged, ever surrenders” —Benjamin Franklin It was the feast of the Epiphany. The mall was full, the air alive with flags And musical with counter-revolution. We saw the snake, never the first to strike, The fir tree, firm as...

. Two Empty Chairs “We did the NFP bit for awhile ... and have felt revulsion over it ever since. During that time we might have had at least two more children.”  ---Letter to the Editor, Seattle Catholic, 2002 Two empty chairs, each in its place— The kitchen table’s vacant...

. Toward Yehuling, 1211 Unfolding steppes emerge as flattened plains Of long grasses of gold and April-green, While crystal streams, like bold and careless children, Careen away through boundless fallow fields. Horses graze nearby on budding sprouts While courtly falcon streaks the sky alone, Now mantled in the palest morning...

. Nessun Dorma after the Italian libretto by Giuseppe Adami and Renato Simoni  The aria "Nessun Dorma" was played for Donald and Melania Trump's first dance at their wedding in 2005. No sleep tonight.  The city will not sleep.And you too, princess, in your chilly suite,Go to the window, look...

. Nero Before the Tomb of Simon Magus And Peter, looking steadfastly against Simon, said: “I adjure you, ye angels of Satan, who are carrying him into the air, to deceive the hearts of the unbelievers, by the God that created all things, and by Jesus Christ, whom on the...

. Lullaby of New Mexico, Part Two Part One can be read here. Duerme Papi---Dad, it’s time to rest. I smooth your blanket here at Desert Sage And look with worry at your wrinkled face. My calloused hand adjusts your thin-white hair. You fall asleep to one of your CDs---...

. Gone Are the Days The tragedy of old age is not that one is old, but that one is young. ---Oscar Wilde Gone are the days—the halcyon, magical days of yore, When you were young and full of marrow in your bones, And hot and swift the blood ran...

. Lullaby of New Mexico Duerme mijo---sleep my weary child As we drive south upon the interstate. My side-eye checks on you, my tired you. My calloused hand caresses your wheat hair. The radio sings dreams, strumming guitars, The soulful voices of the mariachis Who sing about the feathers of...

. The Photograph The snowflakes tumble down like frozen tears, Which fall from every eye this winter day; They heard the call and answered without fear, Their country to defend without delay. A couple stands away from all the rest: Her head is bent, her shoulders hunched in grief, His...

. The Automated Phone System I called up a business But no person answered, I got a phone system With multiple options Some rather confusing; I kept getting transferred, Spent most time just holding; Then after ten minutes I got disconnected. . . He Thought He Was Charming You sure...

. A Glass for My Father Marie-Maurille de Virot, Mademoiselle de Sombreuil (February 14, 1768—May 15, 1823) My father was the Marquis de Sombreuil: An old man when it happened, but back then The Revolution took no note of age, Of sex, infirmities, or past distinction. All they saw was...