Thoroughly deranged by Rimbaud, quit tagging at 18, we’re poles apart giraffes and groundhogs — he a genius, precocial, hatched full form; me more accountant, pasticheur, froggy, altricial.
Still, apothecary Keats and doc Williams managed to be read.
Kunitz succeeded Sophocles and Frost as the oldest working poet, peaked in his 90’s, may Stan’s word storm rust in peace.
Healer molt to anecdotalist at sixty-two, soup stewing back of the stove bubbles up chance memories.
Only once in a while chunks of reality drop in.
Future problematic, address book tattered, thinned; more meditative present merges with wilier pasts; divisions time truth breakdown ellipse branch bog in begin.
Polonius, don’t overreach as Wally Steven’s mickey mocker: after shaving (how are you tied to that jowly ripe man?),
sing your stories outloud as the nascent troubadour I am.
Gerry Sarnat MD’s won Poetry in Arts First Place/Dorfman Prizes; was recently nominated for a handful of Pushcarts/Best of the Net Awards; authored HOMELESS CHRONICLES (2010), Disputes (2012), 17s (2014), Melting The Ice King (2016); and’s widely published including recently by: American Journal Of Poetry, New Delta Review, Brooklyn Review, Los Angeles Review, San Francisco Magazine, New York Times. gerardsarnat.com