BY HARRY WAITZMAN I discover groves of sunlight in my white clapboard hamlet. The pale Victorian homes look as if they were peeled from picture postcards and pasted on tidy lawns. Garage doors open and Irish cops and fireman fly to the Bronx to put down flames and mayhem. I’m conned by rust railroad tracks […]
BY HARRY WAITZMAN My poetry is pumped up by smog and mercury, the lines stretch like knotted rubber bands. I wish there was more horseradish in my life, instead of sugar-coated Cheerios. Corn syrup thins my blood. Salt and pepper preserve my tongue. Honest decay, skunk stink tosses my breath. I feel faint, but stench […]
BY HARRY WAITZMAN My sledgehammer tongue whacks the world, one, two, three, two times a day, evening and morning, my eyes paint the world green three times a day every morning. No reason, each day gives us chances, you win some and lose some, so I would butt like a billie goat and piss on […]
This week the Rockland County Times’ award-winning poet Harry Waitzman shares with readers his magnum opus “Sailing to Haverstraw Bay.” The exploration of local scenes, scents and landscape was completed March 23, 1992. Sailing to Haverstraw Bay Harry Waitzman Sullen speak the streets slanting up from Haverstraw Bay, the houses of tilted brick […]
The Self Portrait of a Monkey as a Scholar My talent is as long as my tail, perhaps thicker than my whiskers, my shrieks creep into jungle soup. My teeth chatter when I lecture and my nose scratches like chalk. Until I scream at a snake hissing, My mate picks fleas from my fur which […]