Selected Poems from Bridgehampton

Road-Side Farm Stand

Triple-ripe peaches,

not so ripe to be mushy,

but even chilled 

the firm flesh gushes

the sugar built from recent days

of moist sunshine.

Can we have just this—

only take the goodness

and ignore the quick-onset arthritis

of a dear friend, or

the just-dead husband of another?

In Bridgehampton can’t we be

on vacation and not be in the real?

Maybe not.

Sweet Corn

Corn is different.

Sweet and white,

so, boil water in a pot at home now

as Mom stops at a field

owned by someone she knows

but doesn’t care for,

flashes into the rows,

at least five deep

to get past the cow corn

and right back out 

with the good stuff.

It has only one hour

to get into and out of the pot

(more fruit stands

but no time

to stop)

and be eaten with butter, pepper

and salt—

only that sweetness,

short time in the mouth,

so tightly binds our memories

to these last few weeks of summer.

Mecox Beach

Girls at the beach 

show off their new tops

ostensibly playing Frisbee

hoping the boys will join.

The boys play baseball 

on the radio

hoping the girls

will come over

and pretend to listen

together with them.


The sandals aren’t lined up

off to the side of the sand trail

that leads past the parking lot’s ice cream truck

to the open sand at Scott Cameron Beach.

But they aren’t randomly scattered either.

They are in pairs, of course, pairs.

The two-footed beach-goers have taken them off

to feel their toes in the sand for this part of the day.

The sandals are at the beach, together,

of course, together, and they are grouped

because the young children’s sandals are near

those of their parents, so the children can find them again

when they are ready to go back to the house

to play some more with their older cousins

and their brother. Grandma’s sandals are there, too,

keeping a watchful eye on them all.

Buy Bridgehampton

Bridgehampton is being illustrated with water color art, and will be on sale on Amazon in April.