Lucius Furius Poems

Lounging in the dry warmth of the sun,
overcome by the beauty of the green cliffs
rising above the hypnotic blue water....
...

Death is the mother of beauty; hence from her,
Alone, shall come fulfillment to our dreams
And our desires. Although she strews the leaves
Of sure obliteration on our paths, …
...

I cried at Field of Dreams.
It wasn't Dad I was thinking of -
it was you -
us, lobbing that ball
...

I would have given you a perfect faith,
belief, unassailable and absolute;
joy's well-spring.
I offer only a substitute - these poems,
...

Here's to those who suffer voluntarily,
who rise above the mean and merely momentary
pleasure that we feel sitting on a couch,
eating Cheetos, watching reruns of 'The Brady Bunch';
...

(Note: The occasion for this speech is the arrival of an expedition
headed by a European in a Bushman werf around the year 1900.)

This desert is our life.
...

I say there is no physical beauty.
This skin, this flesh, this bone
are but the clay of which we make our beauty,
the instrument on which we play our beauty.
...

Kate Larson, Carol Ulverness-
19-year-old goddesses
I knew at college:
beauty so inward and effortless-
...

Oh Rick, if only things were so simple....
If only there were Nazis shooting children,
bullies like Major Strasser waiting to take over,
women like Ilsa -
...

Rembrandt, you maniac!
While other guys were down at the local tavern,
drinking and playing cards,
- or off visiting Paris -,
...