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Sy’s New York Diary: Amazing Flesh

I read, in the newspaper, about a man who is dragged from his car, knifed repeatedly for the few dollars in his wallet, and left bleeding in the gutter. My mother says her friends don’t go out at night. It’s an old story, old as the city’s tired and dour expression, old as the dry and wrinkled hands of a man trying to remember better days and remembering nothing but bone.

The Nothing Poems

Learning To Love

Living with and loving kids who never got an even break. I put aside the idea of climbing the mountain together. I read case histories and wonder if I could make even a small impression. Could they learn to love me as I love them? Could they begin to love our brothers and sisters as well? Is it even possible that they could learn to love parents; foster-parents; judges; probation officers; and policemen, who, in their own weakness, do the children so much wrong?

Spring

Nearly Singing

Untitled

Whether life or its meaning comes first becomes irrelevant

Whether life or its meaning comes first becomes irrelevant. Love is meaning. Life without love is meaningless.

[Love seeks to encompass]

Selected Poems

Selected Poems

Sy’s New York Diary

The city so easy, after all, alive for me like some lover never truly left behind, never truly known: the perfumes, the hidden places, the exquisite fears and sweet temptations of the night.