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BECOMING A POET
In college I never understood poetry. Certain distant acquaintances walked around in what appeared to be a kind of haze. People spoke of them, always with a kind of awe, as poets.
I didn't grasp the poetry, but I wanted the awe. I wanted to be one of the people spoken of that way!
Whether most poets begin with such vague, crass aspirations, I don't know. Most things that are worthwhile in my life, though, have begun with some form of longing, some perception of their absence. ... more »
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Max Reif Poems
.34) Tone Poem: the Finale, 'Leonard Co...
He stands at the mic, craggy faded eagle in a grey suit, singing the verse in a voice of smoke
(....................16sept) My Argume...
Nature's conjunctions are invisible, everything's conjoined, and language only a dimwitted mimic running behind.
(03new!) Beyond the Hills
I gazed across the valley at the mute, brown hills beyond, dappled with dark, round, oaks, that remind me of Africa's veld.
(......01july20) In a Minor Key-Letter...
Dear Leonard Cohen, Strumming and singing my favorite songs of yours,
I weep at the purity of a little girl carrying a cup of hot chocolate carefully across the room.
A Gorilla in My Back Yard
There's a gorilla in my back yard. I'm making friends with him, approaching cautiously, as he moves toward my world.
.35) Time: a Meditation
The bird of Time sat on a branch. I thought to clip her wings, and so I climbed upon her back — alas, the bird took flight again, and now
(.0002june15) The Obituary Page
My friend's former wife, mother of his kids, died yesterday, and this morning
(..................14sept2) Portrait: ...
The two men walk together like overgrown boys, a jaunty humor jingling between them.
Nearer My God To Thee
What possessed us to be so calm, the frigid ocean below about to take us in its jaws?
Your Fathers (1985)
Your fathers enjoyed things, your fathers got their hearts broken too. They were young, they were small, they were cared for by their parents,
(..01july3) Reflections of a Late After...
1. How is it that a day begins long and slow, a world just born
(....02Aug) As My Recovery Prog...
A little while ago I came down to the computer in the early morning light, strong as a lumberjack
(02new!) Why We Get Out of Bed
It's the promise of the sunrise, is it not, that pulls us out of bed, knowing a divine wave has washed the world
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
.34) Tone Poem: the Finale, 'Leonard Cohen — I'm Your Man'
He stands at the mic,
craggy faded eagle
in a grey suit, singing the verse
in a voice of smoke
surrounded by stark figures
black like spectres
from his own youth.
As he finishes,
the band picks up the chorus
and he stands there
smiling with his eyes
closed, just listening
and you feel his whole
life in that smile
and your life, too,
as though the silent
voice of the most beautiful
losers has given
birth to the whole world.