MANY, MANY POETS IN THIS ANTHOLOGY.  I HAVE THREE POEMS HERE.  ALL PROCEEDS GO TO THE MICHAEL J. FOX PARKINSON'S FOUNDATION.  THANK YOU, ELLIOT, FOR PUTTING THIS TOGETHER.  AVAILABLE AT AMAZON.

Poets for Parkinson's: An Anthology Fundraiser (2026), edited by Elliot M. Rubin, is a remarkable gathering of voices that proves poetry at its best is never a solitary act. Drawing from poets he has known, Rubin has assembled almost forty experienced poets from across the globe — New Jersey and New York, Vermont and Los Angeles, the UK, South Africa — whose work spans an extraordinary range of forms and sensibilities. The collection opens with a preface that frames the anthology not as a competition but as a communion, and that spirit of generous listening and mutual revision is palpable on every page. This is poetry made in community, and it shows.

The range of voices here is the anthology's greatest strength. From Sarfraz Ahmed's wry, tender opening poems to LindaAnn LoSchiavo's formally inventive work, from David Sandler's debut publication to the battle-tested lines of Duane L. Herrmann and Richard Fireman, the collection refuses to settle into any single aesthetic. There are love poems and elegies, urban snapshots and pastoral reveries, meditations on grief, on humor, on the strange beauty of ordinary days. Rubin's own contributions — including the Beat-inflected "pork pink" and the wandering, wide-eyed "short walk near the battery" — sit easily alongside the work of his fellow poets, proof that this editor leads from within rather than above.

What elevates Poets for Parkinson's beyond a worthy literary gesture is that it succeeds on both counts: as art and as advocacy. Every dollar of proceeds goes to the Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson's Research, giving each poem a second purpose beyond the page. The dedication — "To those who fight disease / and those who suffer" — is spare and sincere, and it resonates across the whole collection. Rubin has built something genuinely moving here: a book that reminds us why we write, why we gather, and why it still matters to put words into the world.

Helene Faraday – retired editor and educator

AVAILABLE AT AMAZON. $3.99 Paperback

After the remarkable debut of her first poetry collection “Big Questions, Little Sleep”, Linda Imbler again delves deeply into our emotions, this time focusing on things vanished or attained.Nestled between the sorrowful first poem and the hope and glory of the last, she offers images and ideas of reverence, humor, suspense and survival.This is one poet’s guided tour through the peaks and valleys of the human heart when confronted with experiences of what can be lost and what can be found.

Mad Business

The mad business of crowds silenced,

every house seems dark at the door.

Folding flames of candles dissolve,

life choices made in full despair.

The latest death knell has been forged,

the slack coils of un-wrung hands.

The whispering midnight nevermore loud,

life choices made in full despair.

Crash of thunder,

gone in a flash,

life choices made in full despair.

Creepy, crawly prohibitions,

mythical calm lips of the patient.

Unskilled senility

grows around life choices

made in full despair.

 

AVAILABLE AT AMAZON

                                        First Edition:

Some intriguing ideas about two of life’s most significant mysteries.

“Big Questions, Little Sleep” is a poetry collection exploring questions surrounding time and death. Written during bouts of nightly insomnia, these poems are written with a gentle tug at the heartstrings. Some are personal in nature, but have a strong universal appeal. Written with beauty and soul, each poem asks more than it answers. Each invites you to join the ranks of those who harbor sleepless nights as they contemplate the ever deeper layers of each poem.

SECOND EDITION:

In her dedication, Poet Linda Imbler quotes Anton Chekhov, “The role of the artist is to ask questions, not to answer them.” These are intriguing words meant to reflect intriguing poetry.

The second edition of Big Questions, Little Sleep contains 143 poems. Also included is a lovely foreword penned by the distinguished Indian author Dr. Santosh Bakaya (Ballad of Bapu, Only In Darkness Can You See The Stars-Martin Luther King, Jr, Flights From My Terrace.) “Big Questions, Little Sleep” is a poetry collection exploring questions and some intriguing ideas about two of life’s most significant mysteries: time and death. Written during bouts of nightly insomnia, these poems are written with a gentle tug at the heartstrings. Some are personal in nature, but have a strong universal appeal. Written with beauty and soul, each poem, conceived with its own unique perspective, asks more than it answers. Each invites you, the reader, to join the ranks of those who harbor sleepless nights as you contemplate the ever deepening layers of each poem.

 

Thank you to Editor Mark Antony Rossi of Ariel Chart

for publishing my three poems in the May issue.

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Shake Me True Blue

 Aren’t we lucky

I was the one

to get a dose

of all you’ve said

so many times before?

I want to trust your heart,

stick by you,

whatever you do.

You, depending on me

to watch your back.

You really must decide.

One false move

can put us back,

square one looming.

Let your hope be reborn

at dawn or midnight.

Justice is coming,

you need only confide.

I’ll lead you to somewhere great.

Scan the heavens,

keep looking,

you will discover me.

I have a name.

It is loyalty.

The Hung Clock

 Within the openness of midnight,

this time canonized as most important,

where the tract of the sky

is close to the color of pitch-blend.

Above the bookshelf, 

upon a hanger,

at an easy angle for viewing,

is displayed the front of this clock. 

A fatherly sage watchdog,

within this room, 

in the artificial light, 

within the hothouse atmosphere,

it serves as the manager 

of echoing cathedral sounds.

After each windup,

it chooses the sound,

noise or song.

 The higher pitched ding-dong 

from any woodwind,

the tenor end of a pipe organ,

the comfortable sound of  

the trumpeter of a ship’s horn.

And in syncopation with its voice,

a couple dancing through a minuet,

other small figures

riding atop a carousel of horses.

As early morning nears,

it chimes hourly

in anticipation of 

each new day’s promise.

Teddy Bear

 

A handcrafted silver teddy bear,

with a boo-boo band-aid on his thumb.

It’s unfortunate anyone

could have hatred for this image.

Don’t confuse him with a wolverine.

Henceforth, the carpenter,

by virtue of catechism,

will leave him with an epitaph to guide,

anticipating winged aborted stragglers,

tentative,

not familiar with where they are going,

and too scared to ask.