Bill Grace Poems

Robert Bella taught me and a full lecture hall
Why we can not have it all
Back to Homer as a model and things profoundly distrubed
So far from Socrates and discourse and knowing self
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In the good orphonage far from her present land
She slept in the great room with eleven others
And was protected by soup far more than the hamburg
Which is her present delight.
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The photograph of the little old lady on the frigidaire
Is not the siren of once upon days
Nor empresario of her son as pawn
But this thing of age that comes to all
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1. Counseling with the camp terror on a tent step.
2. Helping 'Duffy' die.
3. Making Louis Canales get up again on the right side of the bed
after getting up on the wrong side of the bed.
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The people who dot the I give us: i
The people who crosss the T give us: t
It takes us all to make it go
Even a visionary or so.
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It does not matter if I leave a comment for Sharon Olds
This poet who takes breath from me
Her greatness is secure.
She requires no adulation.
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The story line was there
but the phrase of fire was lost
Stolen by a day of:
Too little poetry
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The evening rate being a reduced thirty five
I never even guessed how much would not thrive
Of what the great play park normally offered.
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