My heart has grown docile, less inclined
to thrash about, to strain at the leash.
Maybe that’s the way it goes: We come
into the world like lava, we burn and blaze
and flow, and then cool into something solid
Thinking about certain aspects my job for just a few minutes can induce a feeling of anxiety, a tightening of the chest and quickening of the heart; in contrast, reading a couple pages of a book on physics can release […]
It howls like an angry, hungry wolf,
His throat a desperate match
That won’t ignite, his
Head tilted back toward a sky
Where clouds pass like cars
Steered by drunken birds.
Look at me,
This mess of flesh, of blue eyes,
Of tendons and nerve endings
(No, they are not endings).
Your eyes are a moan drenched and lost in time,
You blink the dawn from dusk and back again
As though the world were yours and I were thine
And none but the poets intoned, “Amen!”
I can only give you
That which I cannot hand you.
Forever giving gifts
Unwrapped by your eager eyes–
There is hardly room nor need
For my hand in yours.
What need have I to say your name, my heart?
When the cruelest hour strikes and I’m awake,
I know you by your brushstrokes—ancient art
you must leave unsigned, lest dreamers forsake
I am a Jew.
I have been a ship turned away
To face the cold spray
Of a cloudy ocean, fetid train,
Windowless chamber full of gas.
I am vain.
I want your skin, your dimples, your breasts.
I want to trace your eyebrows with my lips
And border with my hands your hips.
In polite society we hold doors open,
Say thanks and please, wear crisp
Suits when we drop bombs.