ICY WATERS

Icy waters
pure and clean
rushing down a mountain stream
sparkling diamonds in sunlight
over rock and stone
furious in their flight
into Ocean’s deep.
swirling into One
never to return from where they come.

around the table
empty seats
some have no feast

there is no cautionary tale
for any bird
sentenced to die
underneath it all

a murder of crows breaks up
the grey,

a hoopoe is not
a legend
only the Simorgh can light the horse's
head and speak with the dead to expunge
their bones

dinner is served promptly at seven
bring your calculated monotony home
leave your insignificance at the door
do not wipe your feet with their blood,

FERRARA,, ITALY 1943-1944

THE GARDEN GATE

we flew and stumbled
whirling down steps of stone
centuries worn
cascading to the garden gate.
sharp right angles into terror
from one terrace to the other
no earth beneath our feet
it seemed…

madness had taken our soul
fear was pounding in our ears
sweeping us into a vortex of nightmare
each step an eternity
to the garden gate
below...

Il giardino dei Finzi-Contini
[The Garden of the Finzi-Contini]

The crooning broke through the silent night
Kids of a small settlement scamper with fear
What peripatetic spirit the dogs have seen
Night birds sang along, yomo nkuku ku-ku

You ate my food and laugh with relish
You eat yours and shed crocodile tears
Because you don’t want to share with me
A capon blubbered, yomo nkuku ku-ku

The hunter’s lamp cast its rays on the leaves
Reflecting on the eyes of a strange owl
Cold chill raise tiny hills on the skin
The seeker mimicked, yomo nkuku ku-ku

I'm too old for this, family gatherings
hosted during the holidays
where family thinks hashing out stinking crap
is the highlight for the evening

Highlighting each other's shameful dirt 
airing out dirty laundry, and 
throwing dead bones from the closets, upon
everybody's heads, not my idea of family bonding

the bled grey edge
these sepia words
resting heavy

the heart waits
and forest dark
recieves the hush
of thought

history dreams
and ghost gestures
now

the walk alone
while I wait
for the greenery
to be exhalted by
winters reception

these days of
hungry being
my own

ON LETHE'S SHORE

[alzheimer's]

Before they cross the river Styx
they drink of Lethe’s waters clear
to forget what remembering is.

it was from a distant shore
I saw you linger there
and when you took of the magic
you turned and looked
but didn't see me anymore

That thou sayest deep

Makes me swim
In waters deeper
And
From the soil, they call earth,
Emerge as a vine's creeper
And
Amongst roses, breed myself
And
Bow to you for your courtesy
And
Help...

Let me now vow, to never shirk
To compose poems,
That upon human psyche shall work...

November

ominous is the sky
roiling clouds in shades of gray
reminders that all things die
no mention of rebirth now

portents of the dying
from the horizon
no time now for crying
so wipe the trears away

winter crisp in the air
harbinger of death's decay
while stiff wind strips branches bare
through them falling flakes do dare

After all these years
the long road ahead
is shorter than the
vision I leave behind

I'm driving slower these days
walking to places
I have yet to go
with unwritten poems

the sky above me shaking
the ground below me
like dust
I gather myself
once more

to see the sunrise I can never
write into a poem

to feel the warmth of your love
I can never put into words.

c