Bill Grace Poems

I admire the poet assassins with their perfect technique
find their destructiveness more than a little bleak
realizing only a few poets will write so well to be remembered.
For me it is a grace that any poet soul would ever try to tell
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The problem with a society
where steel sharpens iron
are the sparks
for those not wearing
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Henry Kissinger at 96
writes in The Wall Street Journal
we must use our present plague,
to learn from,
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Eagle is power!
Sparrow,
who cares?
We are almost all sparrows.
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Our lives are driven things
But not driven well
When we neglect the vehicle's maintenance
A simple reality
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The net has united what civil commerce could not join -
Frost laboring twenty years for a two bill tip
No wonder there was a darkness to his soul,
For isolation was his true reward and punishment.
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I come with pen Lord
As some saint of old would pray
Hear dog and furnace
In the bastion of the night
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The hoopla is gone
The guests went so long ago
That now we bring our child to them
And count leaving 'Leapster' as a sin
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Charley Rose I like you
TV cognoscente
And enjoy your public struggles
With the dark sides of the force
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