John Rety turned to poetry around 1980 having finally decided to give up painting when his studio was broken into and all his paintings were stolen. In the poems printed in this collection a judicious reader will be able to adduce underlying incidents and other significant details of the writer’s life.
Mother, they are killing each other,
Death is everywhere.
The language you taught me
It’s useless, mother, their bombs
Have made me deaf.
And I live among the living dead.
Otherwise, everything is alright
And I have some wonderful friends
But it looks to me
Something might be done about
The state of the world