Max Reif Poems

God is a traffic cop
conducting a mad symphony
in the busiest intersection,
wildly tooting his whistle
...

Something beautiful
You gave me,
Alive and
Needing care,
...

Like beggars poring
through a Calcutta landfill
we peruse the Poems’ column
looking for any glint of gold,
...

I liked the patches
on the back of your jeans,
and almost before I knew it,
we were together.
...

I used to believe we're born once and die.
I was pretty young then and didn't know what death was—
Maybe bullets from a machine gun on a TV show,
Which I thought I could put my hands out to stop.
...

They found him
Under the rushing
Torrent of poems,
Dashed to pieces,
...

These little sufi
banjo tunes alive
are what it takes
to waken my heart.
...

Tribal elders in their feathered garb
pow-wow in the middle of the road.
Bright red wattles shake
from bright blue faces
...

Napoleon Bonaparte,
marching out with all his troops,
could not succeed at
conquering the world,
...

from here
over the next hill
all the way to the horizon,
like a vast, green expanse,
...