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BEAR WITNESS
Some like to say guns don’t killpeople, other people do.But no one I have ever heard ofhas been killed by a volume of poetry,although one man hit by a carcrossing the street without lookingdid have a small book, Howlby Allen Ginsberg, in his back pocket.How many have died by hateor anger this year alone, somenot…
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ONE MORE, MORE
That there is another shootingcomes as no surprise,it is commonplace now, expectedand there are only questions:how many this time, whatkind of weapon was used, whatmotivated the shooter to do it. What does it say when we definemass killing as requiring threeor more dead bodies in one place. The body of the single victimis no less…
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WHEN
When the expected finally happensyou may feign surprise, or evenmild anger or some disquiet,but all will know it is only an act. When the expected doesn’t happenyou may be truly surprised,of even angry and frustrated,and all will understand at some level. When the unexpected happensthe full range of emotions is thenlaid open before you and…
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MY RABBI (PART 2)
I tell him I am thinking of becominga rabbi, someone just like him,a man who saw so many throughall manner of crises, joyous events. He sits back in his unsteady chair,one he refuses to replace, this onefinally broken in, he says with thatgentle smile that melts anger, anxiety. You would do well at it, I…
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MIRROR MIRROR
The person I see each morninglooks vaguely familiar, perhapssomeone I once met in passing,or maybe a distant relative.But he was so much olderso he was difficult to place. I do say hello each morningbut get only a nod, a gesturein response, as if the personis mute, for he smiles backso it is not a silence…
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REAR VIEW MIND
I spent too much time lookingbackward, looking into the past,looking into the mirrorto frame a dream historyof my desires and fears.He called one morning, lefta message, “Mother died,more details will follow.”A mother his by birth,mine by legal act.I should have felt stunnedanger, I said quietly to myselfhe’s cocky, has issues, and wentabout momentary mourning.That is…
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HAVOC
They took up shovels,pickaxes, bare fingersto pry up the seedlings,the saplings just takingroot and the seedsjust planted still wateredby the sweat and tearsof those who lovinglytilled the brittle soil. They offered nothingin return, barren groundwhere only anger grew,fertilized by fear, byby greed, by blindness. Will we sit by and watchas promises wither underan ever stronger,…
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ON ARRIVING
They arrive after a long flightfrom tyranny, from oppressionfrom the nightmare of endlessfear, from hunger, from faithdenied, from the bottomlessdepths of poverty, scarredmemories etched in their souls,hoping for an ending as muchas wishing for a new beginning.They have been here, a newgeneration, raised on the stories,versed in the painful history,still residual anger bornof love for…
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NAMENCLATURE
I have goneby many names,some chosen,some inherited,some thrown at mein anger,in scorn,in friendship. Names addnothing to whoI am, whoI choose to be,who I am seento be by the thosewho throw aroundnames as ifthey were magicalincantations, elixirswith great powerthat fallat my feetlike shatteredicicles of mynot caring.
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REAL TIME
Reality is clearly something to be avoidedto be dressed up in tattery, tied in ribbons,perfumed, yet its fetid stenchis always lurking in the backgroundwaiting to pierce your nostrilsin an incautious moment until you retchand bring up the bile that marksthe darker moments of your life,the kind that lingers in the throatwhich no chocolate can erase.Reality…
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an old writer and his words 