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This is a portrait of the much younger writer and artist Ricker Winsor by Austrian painter Alex Rutsch (RIP).

Zionist

         We grew up as Zionists in New York in the years after WWII. Even though there were few Jews in our town, Pelham Manor, the few we knew were smart and decent. Micky Schwerner came from our town, went to high school with my oldest sister. He was murdered by the Ku Klux Klan…

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It’s All Bullshit

   The writer and activist, Grace Paley (RIP) was someone much admired by almost everyone in the progressive/left community. We knew her in Vermont and one day a group of us were rehashing the tribulations of the peace and freedom movements of the sixties. In response to something she said, I replied, “I am too…

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My Dove

          Auron’s nurse came into the house and said, “There is a bird in the garden. I don’t think it can fly.” Sure, enough there was a bird, a baby dove, walking around, not a new born, but not ready for the world either. Like Icarus he had fallen from the sky, from a nest…

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Raven’s Bread No 1

          Thomas Merton, in one of his many books, said something to the effect that,  “Monks are like tall trees in the forest, silently purifying the air.” The life of the contemplative centers on quiet purification through prayer.           Among the many Zen practitioners of China and Japan, the ones we know about wrote poems…

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Me and Malcolm (X)

This is a Story for You Hermano (for Luis Francia)           I have wanted to write this for so long but I get tired of my regrets and my shame of one kind or another. These days I try my best to find some shiny nuggets among the dross but mostly come up empty. I…

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The Day the Servants Left

from Ricker Winsor’s book Pakuwon City             Muslims fast during Ramadan. For a month between sun up and sun down, no water, no food. Caddies pass out on the golf course or quit after nine holes. Some don’t fast and pretend to do so. Some fast quietly. Some swoon dramatically. For the ruling class this Muslim…

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Unhallowed Beats/ Another Look

       There are strong currents underneath the great flow of history, currents that follow their own direction even as they are carried along. It is the counter culture, going against the flow.       I suppose I started early with my questions about it all. I was looking for something beyond the comfortable…

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What I Know about Art

            What are we doing here in this life anyway? For a lot of people, a six pack of beer and a football game answer that question very nicely. For others it’s family, grandchildren, and community. To be an artist is to not be satisfied by those happy ways. To be an artist is…

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Tik Tok, Poems by Ricker Winsor

  Mud Flat Press has published  my first poetry collection, Tik Tok, thirty six poems and thirty two ink drawings done with reed pens and brushes. My relationship to poetry began with an epiphany in 1973. Only poetry spoke to me during the intensity of that experience.  I had left New York, Brooklyn, and started life…

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Finding Indonesia

          After four years as an expat here in Indonesia, with permanent residence status and no idea of turning back, I might be able to say a few things about this extraordinary country, a country made up of seventeen thousand islands stretching three thousand miles. It is the biggest Muslim country in the world.          …

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