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A letter from Zuckerman, the commissioner, evidently written by an agitated hand. It had come from Brest Litovsk bringing the news of horror. He had been in Pinsk and…
For my child, today, it is so easy
to make the awful discovery, that people kill
and are killed: both things and people
speak the language of the red angel.
My child asks me: Why are people being…
Lately, there’s no trace left
Of Yankl, son of Yitskhok,
But for a tiny round dot
That rolls crazily through the streets
With hooked-on, clumsy limbs.
The lord-above surrounded
The whole world with…
Why do I begin with the parachutists? Were I to trace the story of Jewish resistance and rescue chronologically, I would have to use a different order. I would have to begin with the gradual…
the poem is ugly & they make it uglier
wherein the power resides
that duncan did—or didn’t—understand
when listening that evening to the other poet read
he said “that was pure ugliness” & oh it was
i…
We were too late. The pogrom erupted that very night, suddenly, like an exploding mine, and in my own neighborhood.
The first screams came to me confused, in a hazy dream. Then it dawned on me what…
A Young Jew. The weed of their hatred which has grown so tall
now turns towards us many heads,
many pointed petals and leaves;
what did they whisper to each other before the ikons,
and smile at over…
Into its own gold, the evening melted.
Bullet laughed midair across to bullet.
Colossal city fought with city, giants—
The sky disintegrated in red fragments.
Hatless, soldiers fly across the…
Cigarettes! Cigarettes!
My voice rings through the streets
With eyes overcast, cloudy—
Buy! Buy! Buy!
Hunting foxes—Cossacks ride—
With horseshoes like scythes—
And cut down sounds like sheaves:
Buy…
No one can order his face in advance
And you shouldn’t throw a stone at a dog
Showing its howling muzzle to the night sky.
But when I think about it,
Losing myself in sadness, in this night-cafe
Fogg…