Words  words  words first words  last words  Words strung — like pearls along a length of twine — into lines  And all the while the words slowly alter  Perhaps, as the poet John Lydgate said some six hundred years ago, Woord is but wynd   So with the wind to my back, my most recent published work is a collection of poems entitled The Mystery of Systems


Once upon a time, on my way to work,
Or more properly, my way to the subway,
I froze. Nothing dramatic —
The magnet in my heart
Found iron under the street
And I was seized to the spot.

Once upon the way to my heart,
I found time seized
Under the street. Nothing —
A properly dramatic magnet —
Froze my way to work.

Once nothing dramatic froze time — the iron
Under the subway — to the magnet
In my heart, I was seized
On my way to the street.

Once seized, my magnet heart
Under the street, I found nothing.
In time, the subway froze,

The magnet in my heart froze,
I found nothing dramatic.

Once I was nothing dramatic, I froze.