I don’t remember my parents ever being together as they separated when I was a year old or so.  My earliest memories of my father are of spending time together on weekends.  He would take me to the movies, buy me candy, read me stories and play games.  When he moved back to Albuquerque, I didn’t see him for four years. During that time, he made sure I knew that I was in his thoughts by sending me the wackiest New Mexico postcards weekly.  I looked SO forward to receiving them and absolutely treasured them.  By the time I made my first trip to Albuquerque at 11 years old, I had amassed quite a collection! That first summer with my dad in 1977 was magical.  We had SO much fun together. He introduced me to New Mexican food (and Wendy’s), took me to the movies, and played endless games of poker with me.  We went to the amusement park (Uncle Cliff’s) regularly, played mini golf, went to arcades to play pinball machines, went on patrol (target shooting) and bowled.  I got to spend a few summers that way as a teenager and they were the highlight of my year.  My father eventually followed me to Los Angeles where I had moved in 1985 and we lived fairly close to each other for a number of years which enabled us to spend a lot a quality time together year-round.  I even lived with my dad for a few months while finishing up my BA at UCLA.  He spent hours cheerfully helping me write papers and study for exams.  I know I couldn’t have succeeded in graduating without his support.  I miss my dad terribly, but I am so grateful to have such wonderful memories of the quality time spent with such a caring father.

David's sense of the bizarre was legendary!  This is a recollection and scenario I will never forget,

David had a very dubious notion of the sartorial.

One afternoon my sister Gloria, David and I were strolling the beach at Port Stanley.  David was sporting a pair of sandals and the ugliest pea-green and fuzzy socks I have ever laid eyes on.

Gloria looked down at this feet and proclaimed:  "Where in the world did you get those atrocious socks?"

David, without a breath, retorted:  "Socks?  I am not wearing any socks!"

I am still laughing! 

Of all hundreds of poems he wrote, these are the ones he wanted shared as part of his memorial.

THE DANCING MASTER

If watching Suzanne dance

gave my feet wings,

The way it did my fluttering heart,

Why, I'd show all those hoofers

A fine thing or two.

My pirouettes would make Pavlova blush;

Baryshny-cough...and Fred A-stare.

They'd hang their slippers up in shame;

Make way for a new dancing master----

Me.

But, I said if.

And it's-a funny little word.

As things are now...without the if...

My feet are mostly thumbs;

And my gyrations on the floor,

Make dance a comedy, or farce.

Provide a belly-laugh for those

Who see,

A most non-rhythmic, uncoordinated

Me.

April 22, 1991

RASPBERRY MAIDEN

Rare and wonderful as a

Secret raspberry patch.

Alluring with a barely hidden ripeness.

Inviting touch and scented taste,

You signal me across the now

Too-vacant miles,

With word and subtle hint.

A special promise in every coded

gesture.

Delicious suggestion of contact

yet unfelt.

My tart-sweet Lady of the Thorns,

You lead me on and draw me out.

Call me to stand beyond myself,

And become better than I've been,

When anger-locked and ego-bound.

The summons clear you are to me;

A firm demand from Self you stand.

Conscience incarnate.

Yet all-tempting, too.

You represent the lure of known and

Unexplored.

Of the familiar and the ever-strange.

The pull of old and also new.

All these you are,

And myriads more besides.

My sweet-tart berry lady.

Symbolic fruit, with special

Succulence.

Not for crude palates were you ever

Meant;

But for those who savor Life's

Full mysteries.

Are drawn by charm and bonded to

Your depth,

As I have been,

Am now,

And will be,

While I still have courage

To respond.

September, 1986

RESTRAINT REBUFFED

If I were now to exercise restraint,

Hold back the flood within my heart,

Of love and yearning's surging tide,

My entire frame would buckle

Like a wind-blown paper sack.

Implode upon its undulating self;

And swept in currents of dead air,

Fall back to earth,

A limp and empty thing.

1984

MODERN METHODS

This time,

they did

not bother

with nails.

They used a chain of beads

and finished Him off with a

heavy brass crucifix and

buried Him

in a secret

grave, out

behind the 

church, where

He could hear

the Sunday

sermon.

February, 1959

SWEET DESTROYER

Into my neat,

Dull, but well-ordered,

Well, but dull-ordered world,

She walked.

Or rather--stormed.

And chaos ruled supreme,

While old plans fell about my ears,

And resolutions curled in flames

At her soft touch or lingering gaze.

Desire to distance fell away,

Along with well-devised defense.

And feeling, bursting reason's bonds, Escaped, and stormed the citadel,

Until at last, it stood supreme.

Poor prudence prostrate at its feet.

No more shall gnawing fears impinge; Nor doubting thoughts

Hold back my will,

From sweet commitment's glad embrace.

My hands reach out,

Symbolic act,

And draw her close,

That sweet destroyer, R.

December, 1970