Reflections on Time This is the first of a series of brief essays that expand upon the ideas expressed in my poems. Let me begin with a poem: Time’s Fools Time is the Master that controls us all. What was, is. What will be, was. We are all Time’s Fools, Who clown and caper as…

I don't remember not being able to read.   I do have a clear memory ( I was two or three) of being lifted up and placed in the center of a big bed — covered in one of those old-fashioned bedspreads with raised embroidery.   My father surrounded me with what seemed like a sea of…