To the ghost of Howard Nemerov

There should be a tune for this—something Doric
Of Rude Scotts—though still a kind of plaint
Jist tyaavin awaa, just struggling along
A fine mist covering the page

I passed you at the Workshop (me looking
Like Rasputin) (you with a buzz cut)
Two damaged men in a dark corridor
Poetry, briefly, takes anyone

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by skuusisto