Max Reif Poems

In quest of the Rose,
the hero ambles.
Brashly he goes,
entangled by brambles
...

Haven't walked here in a year—last time
it was all dug into World War I-like trenches,
pipes beside each, waiting to be installed.
...

This moment on the road
St. Louis to Chicago
on a sunny day,
...

The hawk glides
above the massive hill,
alone but not lonely,
small shepherd of the great sky,
...

1
A person should be able to make
SOME profound statement
After flying across the continent
...

Prospero waves his wand:

the words asleep in the dictionary
arise, flapping black wings.
...

Maybe I learned about the Holacaust
from grandpa, when he made me
cross out Hitler's picture
on the German stamps in my album.
...

Where it came from
is a mystery
like the virgin birth.
...

When the trees flower pink and white
filigree, and the sleeping
god comes back to life
...

I came up to our preschool classroom
with my guitar, just in time
to do Circle. The children
were filing out the door
...