The Window of Imagination - Poems 1995 to the Present

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It has been over ten years since I last added any of my poems to this online collection. During that time, I wrote relatively few poems at all, especially in comparison to most of the decades of my adult life preceding the 1990s and 2000s. Why? Partly, it was because I chose to direct my creative energies in other directions, such as music and prose. Partly, it was because I somehow felt that I had said most of what I had to say in terms of poetry. And partly, it was simple laziness.

Another large factor was that I went through a lengthy time of emotional doubt and crisis in which I felt that much of what I had hoped to accomplish in life had slipped past without being accomplished. Trite though it may be to say, it was perhaps a classic case of a "mid-life crisis". Things I'd hoped for never came. Things I should've done, I didn't do. Several health issues arose that made it clear to me that middle-age was largely over and I would never again be as healthy or as capable as I once had been. All these things, plus some serious shifts in a long-standing friendship, made me disinclined to write more poems.

Still, a few poems did get written—and at length enough accumulated to make another online volume worthwhile. This very likely will be the "last" such volume. As new poems are composed, I will probably continue adding them to this "volume" rather than creating new ones after some arbitrary number of poems is reached. As with all the previous volumes, I commend them to your attention for whatever pleasure and instruction you can find in them. I make no pretense of their being either particularly good or especially insightful. They simply are—and are a tiny, often blurry, window into my imagination for any who may wish to catch a glimpse of whatever resides there.

Charlottesville, Virginia
October 19, 2011

The Poems

We wait for an epiphany
Cool, tangy spaghetti salad on the tongue
I dreamed last night
Brittle leaves fall like yellow snow
Hail the old year!
We pray to the same God
When God set the sun alite
There is a saying
Some poets are esteemed
I am gone—but my memory lives
When? When will we ever learn?
My thoughts of you
A January day almost as warm as spring
Scary, a little
The windows of my soul
What a pass has come to be
Back in 1999
Has the time for poetry come again?
And so I bring my pen
When I look in the mirror

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