C.D. Sinex Poems

Stumbling down the Long Beach pier
half washed away by summer storm.
Gone are the drunks who'd come to leer,
stumbling. Down the Long Beach pier,
...

From my bookshelf— 'A
Coney Island of the Mind'
asks to be reread
...

Just walking up a hill I once did own,
the trees now thicker by some forty years.
In deep brush I found the boundary stone,
when I was young the path was always clear.
...

I heard your fiddle.
Bow ensnarled in raven hair.
The last song we wrote.
With neither bang nor whimper. (1)
...

Carved into the Vermont wilderness, my cabin's become a deer hunter's camp, used only a few weekends a year in fall. The rest of the time it sits sad, dark, and lonely. The vegetable garden, once a source of pride, has been reclaimed by the forest. The asparagus, unharvested, still flowers each summer.
Full of memories-
Walking on the unworn path
that once led me home
...

It's the end of May—
Cicadas sing their spring song
to the soldiers' graves
...

The songbirds are back—
The young ones have already
learned the ancient tunes
...

You'd give me poems
and I'd sometimes write one back.
After class you'd say,
'Here, read this and let me know.'
...

A letter came with
your return address in ink.
A blue envelope
no doubt to remind me of
...

A blue winter sky—
Do three geese on the river
mean spring has arrived?
...