Anne Judy Godwin Poem II odd times like the way a sunbeam hits a car's chrome I remember Anne "Judy" Godwin who I met Ocean City, MD, 1961 the evening ocean graying and then the color

i am a broken plastic superhero i was so captain america but the orgies of tornadoes and the prophecies from the underground shelters have disintegrated my shield no one wants to reach out give it is all take the

hours of unhappiness imbuing the words I find on the sidewalk on walls on the fuzzy writing on the face of the moon with some great Shakespearean empyrean importance while in truth what we have

TV Poem political dishwater thrown from the TV all of us covered with debris smelling of someone else's point of view I'd take my shoe to the screen but I want to see NCIS I guess get a

fire engines whistles-lights-bells flashing red all over the night trip to rescue dampen contain this combustible fallen world this collapsed house of human endeavor this baying at the moon so much loss grief cannot contain the emptiness bursting exploding in the widow the widower the

Here I am Redundant, an Andy Warhol poster A few smears of new thought for variety   Here I am Gripping an iPod Pressing buttons Sitting on a sofa Cushion sliding out from under me As I replay

Saturday You will hold a candle, Protect the flame with your palm. Some will carry signs, “Stand For Peace”; There will be song. I will search for my heart In my cluttered room, Windows closed, blinds drawn. I

The dimpled water can’t decide On inscrutable green Or metallic gray.   The sky, a quilt of whites, grays, Patches of scudding charcoal sewn in, Sheds a few loose threads of snow That get entangled in

the reign in Spain drives me insane the moon jumped over the cow spilling milky light did you ever hop while swigging scotch or make a wry word while distilling whiskey or behead a French