Poetry

Kaddish for Mr. Rosenbaum

By on May 26, 2013 in Poetry | Comments Off

Yitgadal v’yitkadash sh’mei raba I am Rivka, a convert, bat Avraham ve Sarah also daughter of Heidi, whose first memories are of craters made by English bombs in Hamburg streets granddaughter of Lotte, who died in Marburg the day the Wall came down adopted niece of Hilde, Lotte’s childhood friend who decades later became my own.  b’alma di v’ra khir’utei, v’yamlikh malkhutei Lotte, my Oma, came to New York every summer Bringing strange toothpaste and lotion and chocolates I loved Speaking to my mother a language I didn’t understand And telling me stories, always the same...

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Elegy

By on May 26, 2013 in Poetry | Comments Off

  Ekphrasis on “Last Movement 1996” painted by Samuel Bak No Kaddish rises from this washed-out beige and olive-painted square. The Holocaust is cobbled from the shabby coats, cloaks, scalloped heaps of cloth, and vacant pages strewn about the feet of these three listless players with their instruments, squatting on a heap of cast-off lumber. Bled out, they cling tightly to their faulty instruments, crude bows of unseasoned wood, a cello with an open empty belly. One man wears a gas mask linked by lengthy tubing to the ground—why does he breathe the dirt so soon? Off-center in the...

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The Axis

By on May 26, 2013 in Poetry | Comments Off

  JOURNAL: RALPH L. MOUL, ELECTRICIAN MATE 2ND CLASS, U.S.S. LEXINGTON March 26, 1944: “Crossed the equator again yesterday. That makes it about 15 times I have been across it.”   Lost in the middle, the electrician’s mate oscillates as the day’s voltage defines his wartime parameters. The Axis had bigger goals than dad’s axis swerving between latitudes, circulating between longitudes of ocean, final resting places variously deep, but every one unmarked.                                  ...

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Fish Feeding Dream

By on May 20, 2013 in Poetry | Comments Off

In this damn recurring dream I have a fish tank an elaborate fish tank (I don’t really, in real life have any fish tanks, when I was a child I did, with guppies and goldfish, black mollies and catfish, but that was another time, another era) a big tank, 50, 80 gallons, maybe bigger, with plants and colored rocks, ceramic bubblers and some large beautiful fish, serene fish, floating along in the water, angelfish and zebras, neon tetras and sucker-mouths stuck to the sides. But in this dream I keep forgetting to feed them, I don’t remember feeding them for weeks, yet miraculously they are...

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Hell Machine

By on May 20, 2013 in Poetry | Comments Off

Yellow ribbons unspool, disappearing  with the curvature of the Earth. I eat yellow ribbons. The road is gobbled up before me. I drive these roads only at night. It is always night. Hubcaps dance, spiral-spinning. Tires scribble rubber-black meaningless symbols, translatable only from heaven’s perspective. Cliffsides hold back empty air, lest it rush in vaporous waterfalls to my mad lungs, drowning me dry. A lone shrub marks a passage through shiny gray guardrail taffy-twisted. Drunk at the top; sober by the bottom. Time is a window in a very high office building through which we...

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(already seen)

By on May 20, 2013 in Poetry | Comments Off

it’s hard for me when my dead return in my dreams vibrant, healthy not knowing they’re already gone or perhaps it’s me who’s made the jump, done the traveling, challenged the dimensions, gone to the spirit world where it’s like how I imagined déjà vu when I was seven years old another complete universe all of us on Mars just one second ahead of all of us on Earth and sometimes a slippage a leaking from the container too full to hold it...

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