Poetry

sad young man singing   crunchbirds and stormfoxes here I am and Im eighteen so what the hell if the light is green Ive got nowhere to go theres my father hes fifty-four theres my mother shes forty-two so tell me what am I to do Ive got nowhere to go what if the woman […]

in sligo at the grave of yeats limestone slab here at the curbing on the edge of this english cemetery a place for you and wife george your words still sharp from the chisel you commanded would be done they sent the corvette macha and eleven days at sea bringing you home piped you ashore […]

young girl singing my father is looking at me and I am shamefaced I don’t know why he is smiling my mother is singing in the kitchen my brothers are winking they are making silly faces I hope he does not see me peering through the blinds he has come walking by my house fourteen […]

Reel Time Streetlights shine off February streets, slick between early spring rain — mid-winter thaw This day slips past me, steals time from us as Evening’s hours march quietly toward dawn Carry along dreams of sunshine behind Dark clouds shouldering aside morning’s light Grey-sky greets the day, pushes me toward work Away from the couch, […]

cats in chelsea cat #ii meepy fine old white and gray oh marvelous cat sitting upright your four paws contiguous cat for a pharaoh to brag on or a master of zen to envy and who would dare bother you calling your name expecting that you would cuddle a peaceful afternoon in his arms when […]

mano this stone the life in it those who shaped it trusting their own culture walking this continent simply at home this essential implement these edges indented sides disturbed a form a possibility that would crack leg bones for marrow a maul a grinder for seeds a stone for a man a woman already restless […]

one cents worth imagine our president profiledon a penny can you © John Knoepfle 2004

The Old Man Whenever I want my dead father near I play old wartime tunes, I’ll Get By and Paper Doll,Artistry In Rhythm, Benny Goodman’s Memories Of You. He listens all alone, with cold beer and radio by candlelight, filterless Camels, the Old Man observes the wax dripping down the Michelob bottle in stalagmites of […]

cats in chelsea cat #i well sam your white whiskers they are a national treasure how remarkably they express that velvet black face you claim your own it is the face only a senator of cats would carry in the halls of deliberation oh you know when to institute progress through the legislature or when […]

old emblems where we have goneinto our other selveswe do not need tofind each otherat home in that country or bother to knowwhat we know beloved thingsfamiliar imagesa place of concord the lights that burn thereburn without flickering © John Knoepfle 2004

poet of cats I trust you will notice that I am the cat piscataway because I am once from new jersey you may wish to admire my coat sleek gray with black stripes and memorable touches of cinnamon I am mrs mcgowans friend and I am the resident poet which I have been since 19 […]

Inconstant time Inconstant time ticks now forward, now back, a snag, a snarl, a sneer in the crosshairs of the moment: this instant. Call me hack or fool, but I travel these broken stairs incessantly. What I mean by all this is that my memories of the good times call up the bad, as if […]