Bill Grace Poems

The yellow bags over gas pumps
remind me how fragile is this civilization thing
that cannot bare a hurricane up the road
or memories of an evil civil war and its institutions.
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Some have handled it
by setting off out of season fireworks at night,
some meticulous trimming
of shrubs about their homes
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A combat simulation range
is a strange place to meetA mindA God's power
but it happened.
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During World War II
my father kept a journal
in his fine hand,
if Harvard doesn't want it,
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Self interest is the enemy
of what I would hold most dear
but if I am honest
it holds a lack of profit
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Not all income is in money
a strange truth that isn't funny
Nelson Bolles wrote his great book
it stayed in revised print till life was forsook
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