Max Reif Poems

Things were not so old, once.
'Ivy' meant the ivy
on my parents' front porch—
...

I waited for each
protracted day to stretch by
before leaving on my trip,
...

Behind the counter, everything seems like a movie
as the gracious, smiling cashier takes my order.
The cooks are busy. I see only their backs.
Scraping and frying sounds rise from the grill,
...

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.
...