These three poems by Penn Goertzel were published in Patterns:  An Anthology of Modern Poetry, Los Angeles:  Idlewild Publishing Company, 1970, pages 429-430.  The second poem refers to Penn's nephew, Ben Goertzel, who was born in 1966.  Penn lived with Ben and his parents, Ted and Carol Goertzel, in Eugene, Oregon, for a year in 1967, while recovering from an addiction to methedrine.

                                    NEUROTIC DREAM

                               The perverted introvert
                                   and his one-legged woman,
                               Take a spark of desire
                                   for an erotic omen.

                               Nervous and nauseous
                                    they fail in their passion,
                               To lie in their blood
                                    and non-satisfaction.


                           How lucky the child who can find delight
                                                  in the mechanism of a folding chair,
                                                          an empty box
                                                               or a colored stick.
                           Excited by the knowledge that
                                                      he has a room of his own,
                                                                a mother in the kitchen,
                                            a toothbrush in the bathroom.
                           Wandering happily across the floor
                                                   in no certain direction,
                                              singing rhymes he doesn't understand,
                                           stopping to watch his breath on the window.
                           Finding excitement in his daily routine
                                                      of watering his plant
                                                   and a bath every night.

                           What a shame to grow up
                                     and curse the chair for its $15 per/mo.

                                      THE OBSESSED

                           Methedrine's my great white whale
                           And I am Ahab as I sail,
                           Obsessed with this elusive monster,
                           To my death and points seen yonder
                           To my crazed, addictive spectre
                           That fanatics call their home.

                           I wander sleepless day and night
                           But speak no pieces, shed no light
                           Upon my sick and endless plight.
                           I spare no cost nor trim my sail,
                           I only know I must not fail
                           To capture Moby Dick and end
                           This wail that shrieks my mind.