Photo & Poem Gallery

The Reservoir
The Reservoir
mcox

Penumbrae

The shadows have their seasons, too.
The feathery web the budding maples
cast down upon the sullen lawn

bears but a faint relation to
high summer's umbrageous weight
and tunnellike continuum—

Cleopatra's Needle  2021
Cleopatra's Needle 2021
mcox

New York, New York

Start spreading the news 
I'm leaving today 
I want to be a part of it, New York, New York 
These vagabond shoes 
Are longing to stray 
And make a brand new start of it 
New York, New York 
I want to wake up in the city that doesn't sleeps 

Polyhymnia, the Muse of sacred poetry, sacred hymn, dance, and eloquence.  Liederkranz Foundation, 6 East 87th Street.
Polyhymnia, the Muse of sacred poetry, sacred hymn, dance, and eloquence. Liederkranz Foundation, 6 East 87th Street.
mcox

To the Muses

Whether on Ida's shady brow, 
         Or in the chambers of the East, 
The chambers of the sun, that now 
         From ancient melody have ceas'd; 

Whether in Heav'n ye wander fair, 
         Or the green corners of the earth, 

Bridgehampton  NY
Bridgehampton NY
mcox

The Changing Light

The changing light at San Francisco
                        is none of your East Coast light
                                          none of your
                                                                pearly light of Paris
The light of San Francisco

The Year of the Ox
The Year of the Ox
mcox

The Beauty of Things

To feel and speak the astonishing beauty of things – earth,
             stone and water,
Beast, man and woman, sun, moon and stars –
The blood-shot beauty of human nature, its thoughts,
              frenzies and passions,

Summer Sunday
Summer Sunday
mcox

Lift Every Voice and Sing

Lift every voice and sing
Till earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise
High as the listening skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,

The North Meadow
The North Meadow
mcox

Distances

Swifts turn in the heights of the air; 
higher still turn the invisible stars. 
When day withdraws to the ends of the earth 
their fires shine on a dark expanse of sand. 

The North Meadow
The North Meadow
mcox

Most Sweet It Is

Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes
To pace the ground, if path be there or none,
While a fair region round the traveller lies
Which he forbears again to look upon;
Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene,
The work of Fancy, or some happy tone