by Toni Ortner | Sep 29, 2021 | Poems
You asked us to take you for a walk in Central Park because you wanted to see the change in season. By then you leaned on a cane and stumbled. We walked on either side. You looked like an ancient monk, but this was no Chinese painting. The weeping willows bent low...
by Toni Ortner | Sep 29, 2021 | Poems
It has always been there arms outstretched. It could be another country or this. There is no sign of a ship. A gray day neither morning nor afternoon. It could be any season. A high wind whips the waves into...
by Toni Ortner | Sep 29, 2021 | Poems
Two Poems for Georgia O’Keefe Toni Ortner’s manuscript for a book on Georgia O’Keefe has been accepted for publication. Here below are two exerts from it. A Blackbird with Snow Covered Red Hills 1946 for Georgia O’Keefe You say the hills are red but all I see is...
by Toni Ortner | Sep 29, 2021 | Poems
The language I speak is a language of grief When we heard the guns we grabbed what we could. The bullets shattered the windows and splintered the doors. The floors shook. There was no place to run or hide. I grabbed two dish towels because I happened to be standing in...
by Toni Ortner | Sep 29, 2021 | Poems
The chunks of ice are melting. In the distance the steel spires of the city glitter above the still water where bloated bodies float. The marble steps the paintings the libraries the museums the ancient statues and books. All gone. We knew the glaciers were melting....