A Haunted Poet by Elisha Porat

A HAUNTED POET

to the memory of Abba Kovner
translated from the Hebrew by Tsipi Keler

Years he smoked, burned, inhaled
filthy butts that wrecked his lungs
with tuberculosis:
muscus, cough and pain.
He didn’t cry he didn’t shout,
he only groaned in private,
and in whispers dictated notes
to those bending over his bed.
The sound of chimes and bells
interrupted the silence of his last nights
always alerting his heart’s flight:
He didn’t save from the fires
a loving mother chasing
after him, clinging as he walks,
as if he were a baby again,
holding her ashes
on his last day.

***

Demon Poem by Wayne Jackson

You Cannot Be Free
By Wayne Jackson 1950-1989

You cannot be free
of demons
they say.
To be free of them you
must be dead

as sticks
as shit

and the star comes out again
Big
and
Big

I tilt my head back
look
at the ceiling
The reflected light
from the pool outside
form shadows
that flicker and turn
I smoke cigarette after cigarette
I pick a twisted fruit
the sun shines through the
bare
bare
trees

***

Atoms Poem or Epic Poem by David Michael Jackson

Atoms
By David Michael Jackson

So I sat down to write the epic poem.
why not? There”s no reason,
there”s no reason in the universe.
Yes sit down my friend,
my good friend,
you look as if you are going to make the atoms themselves change.
Have a seat,
there is no hurry.
Make your visit.
Have a seat now.
What is your hurry?
Are you trying to get to the future? Well, I will tell you the future, so
have a seat,
and we shall not speak of the greeks for they are dead, and
we shall not speak of the impressionist painters for they are dead, and
no, I will not meet you upon this matter lightly
for it is hard to leave them all behind but,
you see this is a legal matter, the stars,
there are laws, you see
that say
that time
will go on
and the sun, and
the galaxy and the universe will
burn out, and
collapse and
end up
in a
dried
up
ball of
nothing
but
atoms, and
the works of
the
greeks, and
the
impressionist painters will
be
in that ball somewhere with
a strand
of my lovers hair,
so,
that”s it. Isn”t it? So I cannot write that epic poem and
I will drink instead of the wine, and
worship the
moment and watch my lover wash
her hair.
In the morning I shall walk in the field and gather flowers for her table. Tonight,
yes tonight we shall look at the stars and
wonder.

Copyright © 1998 by David Michael Jackson, All rights reserved

***

We Are We Poem by Summer Breeze

WE ARE WE
by Summer Music

are we then two different species?
those who are tested
and those abused by the test?

we know the king sits fat upon the throne
draws a line ’round all that is his own
those that grovel at his golden feet
know the king will shortly lose his head

that’s the way it is in the extreme

being tested is the vegetables
being the test is the meat
the back of one hand remembering
assaults & surrenders
flowers grow so very strong
wind born – petal bright flying
one onion petunia patch
listen, listen, the flowers laugh
rippling waterfall laugh

oh yes, pain behind the laughter
but who would trade the laughter for the pain?
the trained seal claps
the trained dog takes naps
and who am i but something of a you
something perceiving or bleeding
or just dreaming

come, take my hand
let’s walk again this forest path
where fairy meets the goblin in the leaves
listen, listen, the flowers laugh.

Copyright © 1998 by Summer Music, All rights reserved

***

Momentary Specks Poem by David Michael Jackson

Not So Clever afterall
It’s just me
nobody important,
just me
This ant in your collar,
this speck in your journal.
Cover,
look.
You can see
dancing across your screen,
just a momentary sparkle
in your own little
universe.
Did we really exist
or were we just a momentary specks.
sirens call
***