My Father's Face

I wrote the first version of this poem around twenty years ago in San Antonio, Texas. My late wife, a city councilwoman at the tine, was attending a National League of Cities convention, and I had accompanied her. My father and stepmother drove up for the day from their home in Kingsville, about 180 miles…

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Kingsville, 1951

This is the first in a series of explicitly autobiographical poems I intend to post: “Do you have a knife, boy? I watched his fingers as they Tapped the arm of his chair. “Every boy needs a knife." I wanted one, all right, One like his, Small and sharp and bright with the sun I…

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A blog about all the arts, including politics
"for 'twere absurd to think that nature in the earth bred gold, perfect in the instant;
there must be remote matter." - Ben Jonson
"I don't know what the question is, but art is the answer." - Guy Conner

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