A document of civilization










A document of civilization


 

 

They are loving grandfathers

now

these crooked men with crooked backs

 

they know

 

which sticks to use

to whip the tree

of where to dig

In olive groves

 

they know

 

of family feuds

and dusty roads

of names erased

To keep the faith

 

they know

 

which grape to pick

to make the wine

of bodies buried

in unmarked graves

 

they know

 

who mocked him

called him fag

put a bullet in his head

they know

 

they know

 

sitting in the summer shade

watching their children’s children

play

on green green grass

 

they know





 
Albert Katz




Albert Katz has been a professor of cognitive psychology for over 40 years and is now on the cusp of retiring. In his undergraduate days he had aspirations to be a poet, gave readings in coffee houses and published some poems in long defunct small literary journals. He found it increasingly harder to write poetry once he started graduate work and through most of his academic, career, publishing extensively instead in scientific journals. He has been married (and divorced) twice, has three children, two of whom have published themselves. As retirement started to loom, he found that his poetic voice started to reappear, after almost 50 years dormant. Over the last two years he has published  (or have poems accepted for publication) in Poetry Quarterly, Three Line Poetry, Inman Indiana and, most recently, Pangolin Review. He has had one poe published previously in Ariel Chart.

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