Richard Lord Poems

Mr. James Clancy

When the women come by with their blood smells
Alive in the chalky morning,
He is right at their smiles like a tiny, quick bird,
His black, dotted eyes saying 'mornings' and 'evenings'.... more »

The Road

I walk to the edge of the long road
Which is swollen, I mean swollen,
With too many memories.
I wanted to give most of them away... more »

Generations

Trotsky, in a MacDougall St. coffehouse,
Appears tired, annoyed, gets irritable,
Leaves his game with old Josef Hurvitz
After only thirteen moves... more »

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