by Max Reif

When I think of how ignorant my parents and I were
about what college was for, I shake my head.

That was after the war
between “The-State-U-Was-Good-Enough-
For-Me-And-It’s-Good-Enough-For-You” (Dad)
and “Ivy-League-Bound-Or-If-Not-
Somewhere-Just-As-Expensive” (Mom & me)
(won by the latter)

& paid for by Dad




About the Poet Max Reif:
Somewhere after my breakdown from psychedelics as I turned 21, and my first book, I had a spiritual experience, which turned a key to Poetry! My insides, my formerly Verboten insides, had opened up, opened to the sky, and there seemed no limit to joy, both in expressing my own heart’s perceptions and longings, and in taking in the miracles of what others hearts had penned. In the nearly 1/2 century since then, the “limit” seems to be reached at times, the motherlode dry. But as a friend of mine, a great singer-songwriter named Jim Meyer, has written, “Life has its ups and downs./ Love sinks, and sometimes drowns./ But though the heart feels out of bounds/ within it love is flowing.” The infinite depths of the human heart, it seems, can never be exhausted. Nor can Poetry.