Rick Green Poems

No newspaper
Nor monthly periodical
cared to publish
the obituary of
...

There was a long passage ahead
A passage of time
A passage of hope
A passage of aching
...

Destitute of property
I own my name
Alone
And three yards of rope
...

I sit like Whistler’s mother
Or Abraham Lincoln
Staring bolt ahead
At passing shadows
...

I saw you afar off

Even in the crowd
You were unmistakable
...