Rich Yurman, Poet 1937-2021
Rich grew up in Manhattan and Queens and was delighted to make his home far from those environs. Since graduating M.I.T. and Boston U. and leaving the East, teaching creative writing and algebra he lived in Seattle, Honolulu, and for many years San Francisco, finally retiring to Oakland to continue activism and volunteer work. When asked the typical question “so what do you do?” he answered “I’m a poet”. Many of his poems are firmly rooted in the New York of his childhood, living with his parents and grandparents in Forest Hills. He leaves behind a loving partner, family, friends, students and colleagues who miss him greatly.
The Beauty Part
Chicken feet
What the butcher
should have thrown
away
like feathers and
the heads with beaks
Nails, yellow bumpy skin
and gristle
a little fat
My grandmother
boiled them
neatly sucked on the toes
‘Don’t be foolish
Try one’
she offered
‘It’s the beauty part’
Secon Avenyuh
He counted it carefully
5¢ for the bus, 5 for the subway
25 a haircut, 10 tip
a dollar matjes herring
5¢ the subway back, 5¢ the bus
Why carry extra
He could go to the corner barber
but they charged a dollar
He bent his head down
Only a crown of white hair
over the ears
‘All I need’s a trim—
Anyways on Secon Avenyuh
and nowhere else can you
get such herring’
even if the trip took all day
He had lots of time