An Interview With R.M. Engelhardt, 2006

MICHAEL ECK Special to the Times Union Section: Arts-Events, Page: H1 Date: Sunday, October 29, 2006 R.M. Engelhardt wears black sunglasses in the shade. He chain-smokes Djarums until his head is wreathed in a clove-scented cloud. And, in the middle of the day, he sucks down coffee like a trucker on a midnight run. Engelhardt,…

THEĀ  LASTĀ  CALL

                    When stars fall out of the sky and all lights fade into silence. When you grow cold Eyes grow old Touch grows cold Stars fall out of the sky And lights still fade. After years After hours After moments That never mattered You grow cold…

A Better World …

    There are some days when I would just like to go to sleep for a hundred years and wake up in a better world where there is really good free coffee, no more wars, no more death and where poverty no longer exists. I also wouldn’t mind it if it was a world…

Poetry Is …

  Poetry is not something scattered like the wind, but an individual journey for the writer. A path, and not a competition. What is written is the truth of the poets life. Which is like a religion, sacred to that person.   ~ R.M. Engelhardt