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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…
The door it opened slowly,
My father he came in,
I was nine years old.
And he stood so tall above me,
His blue eyes they were shining
And his voice was very cold.
He said, “I’ve had a vision
And…
The most terrible thing of all, somehow, was that at Brzezinka the sun was bright and warm, the rows of graceful poplars were lovely to look upon and on the grass near the gates children played.
It…
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…
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…
One week later, as we returned from work, there, in the middle of the camp, in the Appelplatz, stood a black gallows.
We learned that soup would be distributed only after roll call, which lasted…