«To E. K. Gertsyk When the love of flesh fades, / So goes the desire to create. / Your fingers don’t long to handle clay / Or chisel shadows into marble. Your song halts in mid-word, / The brush freezes in mid-stroke — / Surprise…how little they matter. / Farewell, farewell to you...»
«When forty rolls around / It’s too late to play with the muses / It’s too late to languish to music / To drink fiery potion / It’s time to quiet down / It’s time to raise grandchildren / It’s time to shorten your road / When forty rolls around. / / When forty rolls aroun...»
«As my days are fading, / I welcome night’s calm. / The past no longer casts a / Shadow before me — That long shadow that we, / In our tongue-tied futility / To distinguish it from other shadows, / Call our future.»
«Be silent, hide away and let / your thoughts and longings rise and set / in the deep places of your heart. / Let dreams move silently as stars, / in wonder more than you can tell. / Let them fulfil you — and be still. What heart can ever speak its mind? / How can some other understand...»