Blank Verse

  The Family Archive With moldy hand through tender shards I graze In boxes, old and dusty, some collapsed, And gently now curate chaotic stuff, In decades gathered, then in time forgot. The pictures, clippings, postcards, angry notes, The scribbles, artwork, essays, bank receipts, Notebooks, papers, scrapbooks, letters, missives… Accumulated,...

  Soul of a Prophet: A Trialog “But the house of Israel will not listen to you…” ---Ezekiel 3.7. “Well, how exciting. How delightful. Here’s a formula for sheer disaster if there ever was one. I’m afraid I have a bad, bad feeling about all of this.” “I think your...

  Allegrezza In the harbor, the masts tilt left and right like metronomes conducting waltzes made of wind and wave, while on the shingle, gulls pluck whelks from briny nooks, their gullets pulsing hard to gulp the rubbery flesh. The shroud-light dims, diminuendo made of mist descends, and all the...

  The Reveal of the Rocks The August days of summer weighed in full Upon us, green and heavy with sweet scents. That month had seen a drought--the worst in years; The brook beside our farm had ceased to flow. Just trickles now where springtime melts had rushed, Stones long-submerged...

  Omaha Beach The ramp went down, and the brute din of war Was like a furnace. Some collective will Drew us into the water, and the air Bloomed with sour bullets. They sank their roots in me As if I were a rotted corpse. I fell, And I was...

  250 More My country, sweetest home I’ve come to know, Your wings have sheltered me, a foreigner. I came to you a migrant as a boy, Without the blessing of your government. But still you loved me, educated me, Prepared me for the tasks I bear today. America, I...

  The Sowers by Gabriele D’Annunzio (1863-1938) translated from Italian by Joseph S. Salemi Strong lads drive the docile oxen through The field. Behind them open furrows steam As plowshares tear the ground in preparation For the sowers’ casting of the grain. Then with a sweeping gesture of their arms...

  On An Old Photograph It was late fall of 1944. Dad was back from Italy, on leave, When no one dreamt the Bulge would soon explode, Or that an A-bomb waited in the works, Or that a world was crumbling while they smiled, Sure that the war would wind...

On the Ruins of the Ancient City Cumae by Jacopo Sannazaro (1458–1530), translated from Latin by Margaret Coats Here the far-famed walls of ancient Cumae rose, _Prime glory of the clear Tyrrhenian Sea. Here awestruck questioners came rushing evermore _To hear your oracle, O great Apollo. Here energetic sailors found...

  King Cyrus Issues an Edict “Thus saith Cyrus king of Persia: ‘All the kingdoms of the earth hath the Lord, the God of heaven, given me; and He hath charged me to build Him a house in Jerusalem, which is in Judah. Whosoever there is among you of all...

  Sister Goddess and the Chimera “In Greek myth, a chimera is a creepy combination of lion, goat, dragon---in humans, chimeras are one person who contains two sets of DNA.” ---Susannah Cahalan Behold the sister goddess. Her very name is Gloria Deo—glory to God. Her blood has now been offered:...

  A Hospital Drawing She sketched the world upon a sheet of white— A hospital with corridors of beds. Two nurses running, sleeves a blur of blue; A doctor in a coat too loose and long Walked on, his stethoscope hung dark against his coat, Towards a child whose stuffed...

  The Vault _The turning sky enwraps the world. Each day, entreating eyes wide-open to This circling vault shall earn a benefaction, A grain of living salt; and over time Ensues discerning capability To separate inconsequential things _From those that absolutely matter. _Autumnal rains quell squirrel chatter, The leaves grow...

  Refrigerator Bird “Say the word for penguin.” Jen Jen waited. Silence. Then I guessed: “Refrigerator bird?” Laughter shook the teacup in her hand. “Best penguin that I’ve ever heard!” In the margin of my workbook page she drew a penguin, waddling, fat. This is how she teaches. Not by...

  Glog Gets Participation Prize Our tale’s set in a prehistoric cave Carved in a cliff above a vast expanse Which offers Aurochs Clan a safe enclave Within a land the future shall call “France.” The fecund plains below are lush and teeming With toothy predators and shrieking prey. A...

  Old Bottles ---Oneida County, Wisconsin From time to time, when stirring in the muck below our lakeside dock, we dredge them up: old bottles, curio shaped, clear, green, or blue. We gurgle out a muddy milk of sludge and wash each bottle clean, while wondering how old it is...

. Rare Books ---Magdalen College, Oxford, November 1993 From London, westward ho, and slantwise north, I journey into Oxfordshire and see, through outsize windows on the Stagecoach bus, green meadows framed by thick-set hawthorn hedgerows, the spreading canopies of great-trunked oaks, fat-uddered cows serenely foraging, joy-barking collies chasing squirrels and...

. Surviving the Cultural Revolution Why should this tourist want to take my picture? I’m just a woman who is very old--- He photographs me as I sweep the streets And gather trash to justify my rice. What could I tell this foolish, shallow man Whose camera records but cannot...

. Five Dappled Things A weave of twigs upon the ground; five eggs, cream white, flecked with gray. An ark dislodged —a callous jay or heartless wind— the nest set down. A slant of sun, an ark of twigs. a future vanishing. Five dappled things upon the ground. . ....

. Living Dead The riffled rush of water mingles withThe wind among the Ponderosa pinesAs damp chill of late summer mountain rainSoaks through my shirt and clings and binds it toMy skin as if I were a mummy wrappedIn strips of liquid linen, parodyOf Karloff’s walking dead, where echoes ofThe...

. An Unfortunate Encounter ---27 March 2025 A ragamuffin mob surrounded mewhilst on an errand, walking in the street.They pressed in close, they vied to shake my hand,distracting me---the foreigner. Then onecovertly lit a firecracker andhe dropped it in a pocket of the bagupon my back. They jeered, they squealed...

. Two Lyrics by Philodemus of Gadara translated from Greek by Joseph S. Salemi . V.124 Summertime has not yet cast off her buds Nor has the grape bunch turned to purple for you, The one near bursting with its maiden bloom. Already the young Cupids are at work Whetting...

. A Token of Espousal Sister Elisabetta Dardinelli Speaks Concerning the Token of Espousalof Saint Catherine de’ Ricci (1522-1590) Dixit mihi Dominus meus: Ne timeas, filia: Non rapiet tequisquam de manu mea. My Lord said to me: Be not afraid, daughter; no one willtake you from My hand.  —Carmelite Breviary...

. Americans in Florence Ooo David! Whoa, you’re well-hung! But why a foreskin, underslung? Your left hand, do you hold a sling or dead Goliath's severed thing? Stop giggling, girls, show some respect. You know we all must genuflect before Great Art. Meh, this is slop. C’mon, let’s go, we’re...

. Skellig Michael a remote island off the Irish coast A whispered, whistled wind resounds the echo Of the circling gannets’ raucous cry. While far below, the white noise, sea surge surf Collides with barren cliffs and wraps the Skellig Michael in a timeless shroud of mist. As like a...

. Aphrodisiac I. It was past midnight when we met and spoke One rainswept winter Friday. The wet street Stood empty save for us (that clinched the deal). God knows she was no beauty: unkempt, thin, A hard-luck face—but still with youthful bloom And amatory promise. Yes, of course I...

. Kristallnacht---The Night of Broken Glass I tell my son he must not make a sound. I whisper, “Karl, this attic is our haven. Don’t cry! Don’t let the brown shirts know we’re here!” Alfrida’s shaking. I must act much braver Than what I feel. What if they burn the...

. The Worst of Our Convictions When, finally, the last church shuts its doors; when we run out of new identities to choose from; when the politicians have enough of power and wealth to make sure they can always get a little more, and each is safely snuggled in the...

. The Harmonies of Holst While doing errands, driving roundabout, I listen to the classic music station. An orchestra plays a courtly lyric song. What can it be? I know it well, but how? Perhaps a ballad handed down through ages? I miss the tranquil host’s informed announcement, but hear...

. Rising with the Sap You would not call them blocks, those obscure streets Where people live. Their driftings trace the hem Of Manchester. I drove there once at dusk My windows down, in the sleepy perfume Of gardens and the insects’ dreamy jaw And passed a house whose screen...

. I Am the Stone I am the stone The humble stone the barefoot shepherd boy Selected from the muddy river bed; The stone which fit inside the sling he made As soon as he was given leave by Saul To fight for Israel in her time of need. I...

. Saint Sebastianus Sebastianus, soldier, pinioned, bleeding, Stands at his lonely and forgotten post Unperceived—no, even unsuspected— By the diseased and ulcerated world. Stomachs swollen with dyspeptic lust, Crisscrossing arrows of sharp competition, The noise and energy of the inane— All pass by him without a nod or glance. But...

. Kintsugi  There is an ancient practice in Japan--- Chipped and broken vessels, dear to hearts, Are mended with a striking golden blend. These cracked ceramics, kissed with artistry, Have former glory honorably restored. Each gleaming seam adds meaning to their worth. This emphasis of imperfection shows The wonder of destruction and rebirth--- The value of life’s scuffs and...

. Evra Our grandma Evra was a trifle difficult. If ever sound advice was needed she’d be there, But quiet, not a word until a person asked, And then she’d give it and you’d better listen ‘cause She never gave it twice—save once, and I’ll get back To that.  Her...

. La Campana Ring, grandfather! And ring for liberty. The bell spoke once and, speaking, croaked and cracked. Our gazes bathed its iron in gold hazes As Hebrews treasured tablets their sin split. Its silent iron: I will ring again. We have a problem---witnessed by the crack. The groan of...

. Le Bal Des Ardents for Joe Salemi On 28th January 1393 in Paris, Queen Isabeau of Bavaria, wife of the mad King Charles VI of France, held a ball which became the scene of a terrible tragedy when four members of the nobility, masquerading as “wild men,” were burned...

. Green I’m talking green: the greening ground Of spring and springing hope eternal; The spectrum’s hidden light unbound And animation of all that’s vernal; The pulsing new-found energy Of green, intoxicating green, Candescent with viridity. There is no other drug but green. . . The Luxuriance of Leaves What...

. The House on 58th Street for my father Salvatore J. Salemi (1913-2008) The house on 58th Street stood right by A cemetery—Calvary by name. Looking out our windows we could see A high stone wall, hand-fashioned of huge rocks (And to a child’s mind only giants could Have raised...

. Contract Murder No one is ever quite sure how it’s planned— What’s clear is that a grievance is expressed By injured parties, who directly make Complaints to the Commission, which in turn Investigates, considers, and decides. There are some instances where no one brings Specific charges—bad blood or distrust...

. Some Satirical Epigrams in hendecasyllabics (essentially trochaic pentameter with a dactyl for the second foot) . Complaint to a Complainer You complain all the time; about the weather, Other peoples’ affairs, your job, your pillow; So much so that it seems you’re only happy When you’re whining about one...