Paul Haeder: you see cracks in walls as art, terra cotta a glimmer of Taxco pottery earth of mother country a dream, sometimes fancy, you take shots of Don Julio not to stave asthma
Paul Haeder: here you are happy, I can tell even in the face of poverty, desiccated horses, feral children, you are engaged elixir is real
Jack Rothman: Oh, say can you see Through dawn’s hazy light The missiles streaming in air Our nukes still there.
Walter G. Moss: From running or standing she springs in the air In ways that few gymnasts ever would dare. Forward or backward her twists and somersaults, Executed from balance beams or in her vaults.
Vicki Ryder: I open my morning newspaper To see what the President’s done, And the horrors just keep piling higher And I feel like I’m coming undone.