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Stalinstan,
Stalinstan,
Who is present and on hand
From the Party,
From the Union?
Who was on his way
Somewhere else today,
When a chain of men caught him
And then brought him
To…
It’s one in the morning. I’m writing this poem
in a train station.
What does poetry have to do with trains?
I came here unexpectedly
traveling the wrong way.
Telling the story is risky:
I was…
Work, tradesmen, shops, the town is there
with old maids polished down by emptiness
on haberdashers’ threshold where the antique sun
brushes off jewels dusty with being looked at.
Dressed up for…
For two minutes we gazed at each other
In curious silence.
When politeness nudged me in the shoulder,
I introduced myself:
A man, the crown of creation.
The grasshopper
Was not overwhelmed.
He kept…
For the first fifteen years of our lives, Danny and I lived within five blocks of each other and neither of us knew of the other’s existence. [ . . . ]
Danny and I probably would never have met—or we…
The synagogues where older and more modest congregants pray are spared to some extent. It is a good thing that they are closed all day and all night and are opened only for early morning prayers and…
“Hey, hey, out of my way!” shouted a driver from the seat of his coach as he nearly ran into two women standing in the middle of the busiest street in Glupsk, both carrying…
A whole world of railways appeared in our time
They carry their passengers—poor men and rich.
Admire the wonder, but bear this in mind:
It’s really a parable, meant just for you.
It is we who are…
Enough of girls! I’d rather live alone
Than touch those reptiles, though they may be fair.
I’m sick and tired of wasting on the air
My strength and every penny that I own.
For once they’re mine…
O age! Here’s something new that I have filledWith old, like fine oil in a flask.A kind of verse to please men’s mouths and mindsI have invented for exploring love.I provide a model of the differenceB…