Thursday, January 04, 2007


My right leg hurts
From a lethargy of sleep
And a perverse memory
That can always remember
No matter how much
It would pay to forget
In a pathway of concrete
The ego of freedom
Of art

Hadn't I seen myself dying
I could easily withhold myself
From disagreeing with her
On that philosophy has a lot to do with poetry
Because it reminds me of God
Hanging from the gallows
Everyone else too
Except the young Dutchman
Who lingered for much longer

Yet it is seemly better than death
Tantamount to despair
Together with the calm perils
The tired eyes
Of the red-haired man
Hiring help for the world
Bribing silences
Building bridges
Between Meah Shearim and Rehavia

Calling you on the phone
With onerous tasks
That you perform only at night
Swallowing lights
As to uncover the leg that hurts
Raveling death at once
Seeking solace
In the distant past
From Mt. Zion

Perhaps you shall find shelter
Under the spell of Aquinas
Once the Shekhina has been uprooted
You find it existentially true
And meaningless therefore
You shall seek Orion
Two years later
From a Canaanite tower
And dream of Abendland

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