Elegy
By Carl Kopman
If I am so lucky
as to remember those friends
Upon whose dreams I feasted
Waiting For Night To Fall
By Carl Kopman
Lovers and friends never have ends
A Light in the Back of the Basement
By Carl Kopman
I keep my time with old things these days, poems and stories, diaries and journals, photographs and a lampshade; a rescued trove of writing held to the worn and fading light of journey and memory and another day; the chaos of a crazier mind, the energy of taxi cab dreams, the callings of a younger man, fishermen off the Albion shore.
Dog goD (the palindrome)
By Carl Kopman
My dog looks up at me expectantly
carrying her leash in her mouth.
A Collection Of These Things
By Carl Kopman
When you ask me how to do it
How to make it make sense
Break the words in a Poem
So as to make them less dense
The Nature Of Hope
By Carl Kopman
On The Temporary Nature Of…
By Carl Kopman
Why a poem I wonder
is the place I need to be
within a clarity…
without thought
but sometimes rhyme…
Journey As A Circle Searching For Itself
By Carl Kopman
Prelude
To A
Mendocino
Suite
Just Out of Reach Of a Tangled Web Is Simplicity
By Carl Kopman
While searching for the mortuary box containing Robert Levin’s ashes in the basement of my Berkeley home I found in an anonymous old carton, amongst other things, a poem I’d written back in my day, Gypsy No Eyes!
Virtual Robert Levin
By Carl Kopman
We sat in my car parked by the beach at Todd’s Point smoking a joint; this was Mendocino after all. I had brought Robert the book of photographs we’d produced after he’d moved into the nursing home. He was pleased with the quality of the photographs.