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Now I would also like to sing a bit,
With my poor voice,
Of things that have happened recently,
Which everyone ought to know:
Of the plague and pestilence,
That have happened here this time
In the…
When I was twelve, I read The Diary of Anne Frank.
I identified with her having to live
stories above a busy street
over a business, and having to keep quiet
for hours at a time.
I’d pad about on…
As if you could draw a line and say: below this there’s poverty.
Here’s the bread that turned black in the colorations
Of cheap makeup
And the olives in their little plate
Atop the cloth over the…
It took me twenty years to love
this hole in the middle of nowhere.
The cotton balls spread a white flame
and there was an ill wind in the cypresses
until for the first time I saw,
with a just eye,
t…
I think of my father who believes
a Jew can outrun fate by owning land.
Slave to property now, I mow
and mow, my destiny the new Egypt.
From his father, the tailor, he learned not
to rent but to own…
Amid breathtaking bougainvilleas
I while away my time
One floor up Emilia’s
Flimsy lingerie is hanging on a line
Tiny hummingbirds hover
Around a wistful rose
A mouse caught in a saucer
Watch where…
I am now writing, with God’s help, a new commentary on your breasts.
It is a precious, blessed composition, in my poverty I have gathered various commentaries,
From what came to hand. It is a…
Laboring women, suffering women
Women who languish in factory and home—
Why stand at a distance, why build not our temple
Of humanity’s joy, and of freedom sublime?
Help us to bear the red banner…
I have studied the science of leaving
in night’s unbraided sorrows.
Oxen ruminate—the waiting lingers to the final
hour of the city’s vigil—and I honor rituals
from that other night—the rooster…
This is November
Season of mills.
Wind of the black early morning services.
Cemetery
And thousandnightliness
Of the childish little candles,
And their fear.
Trudging now
Through the…