Martin Cohen was born in the South Bronx somewhere on Simpson Street, went to a Yeshiva on East Broadway and Canal Street, and then lived in the South of Brooklyn, the South of Long Island, The Southern Tier of Upstate New York, The South of Manhattan, and finally South Jersey in Egg Harbor.
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7 thoughts on “”
Oooooo, this one is wonderful. I love that switch. And it’s so true, at least in my experience with listening to loon calls. Thanks!
martin, one hasn’t lived until they’ve heard the call of the loon, the bobwhite’s, or the whippoorwill’s at twilight
your ku reminds me of what i’d written, one pensive evening, at the end of summer; of course, enhanced by last season’s pressed catawba grape, near hammondsport, new york.
–
Oooooo, this one is wonderful. I love that switch. And it’s so true, at least in my experience with listening to loon calls. Thanks!
Nice reversal captures the moment.
martin, one hasn’t lived until they’ve heard the call of the loon, the bobwhite’s, or the whippoorwill’s at twilight
your ku reminds me of what i’d written, one pensive evening, at the end of summer; of course, enhanced by last season’s pressed catawba grape, near hammondsport, new york.
–
full moon
so big–
so lonely
–
‘longside keuka lake
her initials in maple
Martin, your moment is breathtaking!
old mill road
only moonlight flows along
the power lines
Excellent, Martin.
brilliant. poignant.
LOVE it, Martin!
;)
Lary