POETRY

When I was young (a long, long time ago), I wrote poetry on occasion. None of this poetry has survived. You might consider this to be a case of natural selection at work.

When I met Angie, who was to become my wife, I started in again with a few love sonnets. Later on, after marriage and three children, I wrote more—usually to be enclosed in letters to Angie to help dispel the loneliness of missions in which I was absent for periods of a few weeks to several months. Consequently, they tend to be more than a little erotic.

Angie kept every one of my poems to her (love makes you do strange things). I’ve read enough good poetry to know that my poems are mediocre at best. But Angie treasured them, so this is for her.