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Fabius Lind’s days are running out in blood.
Red serpents of failures empty his veins.
In his head—white muddy stains. Confusion.
And a heavy load on his heart.
He could have . . .
He could have . .…
I am the creeper, the wild one
Climbing your garden hedge,
Reaching, a red one, a wild one,
Up to your window ledge;
To inhale your dress’ rustling
As on your floor I lay,
To pale in the light of…
Burning kisses now are born
Within his heart for his chosen—
And, landing on red little lips,
Immediately are frozen.
Then a frisky little horse
Overturns the sleigh—
A snowy, stony canopy
Buries…
The street lamps of the Old Town began to flare out in preparation for the night. And soon the yellow gas-lights shone in the shop windows too, and outside the little…
Fabius Lind clings to the flowing mane
Of young spring,
Galloping on the free highways of desire.
Voluptuous desert-winds around him,
Voluptuous desert-winds inside him.
Fabius Lind surrenders to…
Bread and cheese and honey on a simple table.
The tea beckons golden
In two thin glasses.
Green, cool and fresh,
The water jug, veiled in dew.
On the edge a woman’s handkerchief.
Next to it, a…
I have my mother’s black hair and green eyes,
my father’s delicate thin hands
and blood that sings and flares,
blood of grandfathers—Jews along the Dnieper;
on my head, the many nights with friends
s…
[ . . . ] From the other side of the fence was heard a murmur of Jewish voices as of people praying aloud. On a carpet before the door of the courtyard sat Murad Khan, and…
Worn and torn by many fingers
It stands on the bedroom dresser,
Resting back against its single cardboard buttress,
(There were two)
The gilt clasp that bound it, loose and broken,
The beautiful…
Across from me in the subway sat the madonna
Crossing her legs,
Bending over a tabloid.
She read about a cashier-girl who jumped into the water
When her bridegroom left her with a rising belly.
The…