Watching together as relatives, friends pass-on a few whisper, Ger’s kinder man now than used to be as invincible fellow teenager… Yesterday I eyed a weary woman housecleaner glancing tearily at tarnished bronze figurine which when we bought small cabin looked beyond woodsy expanse from front porch -- before my wife demanded I take junk down: then was 36 years ago and as sad lady told us about her sickly granddaughter, She loved images ‘til totally ravaged thusly that’s how Grams began to collect icons in order to populate new garden honoring all such fallen angels…so spontaneously, meekly, unprompted, mutely it overcame me who felt blessed becoming able to grow capable of just simply passing on object of obvious profound meaning to someone deeply valuing our discarded hunk of metal.
About the Poet:
Gerard Sarnat won the Poetry in the Arts First Place Award plus the Dorfman Prize, and has been nominated for a handful of recent Pushcarts plus Best of the Net Awards. Gerry is widely published in academic-related journals (e.g., University Chicago, Stanford, Oberlin, Brown, Columbia, Harvard, Pomona, Johns Hopkins, Wesleyan, University of San Francisco) plus national (e.g., Gargoyle, Main Street Rag, New Delta Review, MiPOesias, American Journal Of Poetry, Clementine, pamplemousse, Deluge, Poetry Quarterly, Hypnopomp, Free State Review, Poetry Circle, Poets And War, Cliterature, Qommunicate, Indolent Books, Pandemonium Press, Texas Review, San Antonio Review, Brooklyn Review, San Francisco Magazine, The Los Angeles Review and The New York Times) and international publications (e.g., Review Berlin and New Ulster). He’s authored the collections Homeless Chronicles (2010), Disputes (2012), 17s (2014), Melting the Ice King (2016). Gerry is a physician who’s built and staffed clinics for the marginalized as well as a Stanford professor and healthcare CEO. Currently he is devoting energy/ resources to deal with global warming. Gerry’s been married since 1969 with three kids plus six grandsons, and is looking forward to future granddaughters.
Ephemeral Elegies 
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