Aligned at the curb,
a few horse-carriages stand;
white-roofed surreys
with kitchy decoration.
The coachmen, looking up from cigarettes,
begin their pitch, pushy and talkative.
Who is least aggressive?
The park verdant awaits our choice.
Decision made, we're high up and moving now
clop-clop escaping the yellow-cab swarm
into the quiet Olmstead image of New York.

Rejected Again

Dear Mr. Frost, we cannot use
the recent outpourings of your rustic muse.
Two Paths Diverged cannot be seen
in the primary focus of our magazine.
If you wish to try us at a future time,
We hope you'll consider a more modern rhyme.
Good luck.

Heightened Awareness

Seen from ten-thousand feet,
the contentious commute
sheds its strife.
Higher still, the horizon curves,
till at orbital range
the blue-green globe emerges,
hinting at the unity-of-man.
Finally, in deep space,
the loneliness-of-man
is rediscovered.

Poetry Magazine