In Central Park
Who is to blame that I don’t see your tree,
Garden in snow, my garden in snow.
Who is to blame that I don’t see your tree—
When a woman goes out for a stroll in your snow,
Her bosom rising and bouncing so,
As on choppy waves in the sea
A boat with two pirates who row
And shout that they are two pirates who row—
Garden in snow, my garden in snow.
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Poem
Who cares if eternity won’t know me,
if no one ever watches my footsteps—
but now, right now, when hearts are burning,
I come with fists in my song.
Of course I’d like to sing myself away,
to cry…
A Letter to Feffer
From other friends—poets, creators,
who are dear to me always,
I step away today,
Feffer,
and turn to you!
The battles still rage
on our literary planet
but it’s time to consider
the creative…
Holy Grandmothers in Jerusalem
Holy grandmothers in Jerusalem,
May your virtue protect me.
The smell of blossoms and blooming orchards
I suckled with my mother’s milk.
Feet soft as hands, fumbling
In the torrid sand,
And tousled…
Portrait
This is what he must have looked like,
Christ in the autumn, like me with my
twenty-two summers: still beardless,
blond, and the girls couldn’t help it,
dreamed of him night after night!
In Praise of the Hebraists in America
Like a sparse string of lights, scattered but connected
belonging to a strange and darkly snowy train station
that suddenly pops up among the winter fields,
forgotten somewhere between New York and…
Friends of My Age!
Friends of my age,
My happy generation,
We strode, pained-pleased,
Through the wreckage of whole worlds.
Before the living and the dead
fell on our portion
Inherited old skins
of ourselves—and…