In which my first published poem appears. My apologies.

I was 22. It was the decade of The Aristocats and Fritz the Cat. I was aiming somwehere in between, much closer to Fritz, and tipping the E.E. Cummings bottle a bit too freely.

I was an assistant editor for Sou’wester and proud to get my first poem published. I did not, however, expect illustrations. I did not expect the note that said copies of the lit mag were distributed free to dental offices in New Jersey. I did not publish another poem for eighteen years. I needed to get my breath back. With any luck you won’t be able to read the poem. Dust to dust.