Fishing Rods

Remnants of my Uncle Jacob’s finer days

when, with my father and I trailing behind

we would make off to Wannsee,

spend the afternoon poking its Surface

with lines to which I hooked squirmy insects

meeting their soggy fate

in the gaping mouths of carp

 

Uncle Jacob had shown me how to fasten

the fleshy beasts, he used to say:

“With your small hands you should out-fasten

me very quickly!”, I never did.

Uncle Jacob had the largest palms I’d ever seen,

his fingers in comparison were thin and very long,

I imagined it was those spindly fingers

which fastened diamonds so nicely,

the large palm a secure surface

to hold them, assess their brilliance

without letting them drop into the dust

of precious metal and wood powder

 

He was such a Giant

Nothing worried him,

half his size, my Father knew better

the Black and Silver Cross

appearing Everywhere

foreshadowed an Evil

Never before Seen

Uncle Jacob wouldn’t listen, I did,

even the Trees seemed menacing

the Carp too hungry, the Water too green,

 

What would become of us, Where should we go?

 

 

vallotton pond

Painting By Felix Vallotton

Memory

Like an Ancient edifice

Sinking into surrounding water

Every year an inch, a foot

The encroaching liquid surges

 

The Foundation disappears

The first floor windows dissolve

The 2d floor disintegrates

Engulfed by time Rising

Dismantled in this sea of Constant Change

 

The Story too disperses

Maintained by the Living who Care

Remember

Are connected somehow to this Structure

Survivors dwindling

Soon the waters will swallow up

The remains

 

Who will apply themselves

To the memory of what will be nothing

more than an immovable surface?

And Why?

 

Times passes, Memories live on

In a Handful who Recall

Repeat, Remind

Who listens?

 

D-Day June 6 1944

D-Day June 6 1944

 

OLD STONE

old stone

To my father,      Memorial Day 2014

 

Resonant memory stored,

such centuries of utterances

cooling and warming

each flagstone,

the scent of mold

 

We ascended the large steps

you felt as I did, moved

by the voices you’d heard

echoing time immemorial

but from which you have kept

yourself for so long,

the wave of feeling swept

through to your brow

and as it transpired

you could no longer

hold yourself,

Too many whispers at once

too many greetings, entreaties,

too many

 

So we will sit here for awhile,

gather ourselves for awhile,

and I will wait

till you are ready

to go home.

Bishara

To my grandfather

a Spirit you Appear

through your written elegance

A visionary you Hover

in the wounded Flesh

of your children’s hearts, who

remember you Vehemently

but in fact, hardly

Stories waft in pieces, Scents

Sounds of darbuka,

they vanish as quickly

nothing retains them, nobody

really knows the man

who died of an ancient virus

caught upon opening

the buried vaults

of Forgotten gods

By way of your Book

you visit me, Reveal

yourself , your love

for a land which raised you

was not yours, still

houses your Bones

I picture your soul

as the wind lifts the Sand

restless Circling

questioning the years

you spent on your own

Waiting to die

so far from those

who needed you most.

Yaron _2

Extermination And Football Fields

The stretch of Earth

which carried

those rails Eastward

stands empty now, empty

with lush green grass and white markings

ninety by forty-five meters

those Rails which brought me

and mine to death,

appear and Dissolve

with the Radiance of light speed

the White and Black ball

is practiced from side to side

heedless of steel and gravel

of screeching metal

of huge arches delineating

three massive platforms,

Only the Bright lights that allow

the players to Kick by night

are like those which forbade us to Run

Leaning against the Ruins of the Great Station

I watch the rails, there for me always

thunder of my Fate

and see a Football Field.

 

Anhalter Train Station Memorial, Berlin

Anhalter Train Station Memorial, Berlin

Cesar Must Die

Blood Bound

my love

Runs deep

I breathe in your breath

Move in your shadow

Your clothes,

the striped Shirts

multi-colored

Bowties – your smile

my smile

*

You stand we all look up

You speak we listen

Fight and Struggle

With your Obstinate

Convictions

And hidden desperation

You are both

man and god

Too mercurial to be the father

We seek

*

Cesars too must die

once they are done conquering their world

incessantly marching, declaiming

they lose strength, tire, abate

Objective Reality

seeps in

like gas overtaking

Limb by limb

anguish subsides

*

Worthy your Vision

Momentary your Life

you too my Cesar, moved on

and are missed

*

Painting by Frances Oberbeck

Painting by Frances Oberbeck