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DC Poets Against the War
FUTURE
Senseless to relate the unbelievable.
To say, for instance, finally the Eagle
Cried heartbroken;
That today for a moment I doubted
It was day of full sun;
That the window panes of the coast were breaking
And cutting into never alien hopes
Upon a surface that knows no limits.
War is routine
As is picking up rubble and corpses.
But to say dreams were biting each other
And evil walking freely
Is unbelievable, as is the flower
We water in the desert
that grows to save us and accuse us
And unite us
Or divide us forever.
September 12, 2001.
WAR GAMES
UNCLE’S GIFT
It’s hard to play soldier.
To have to go hunting,
To shine boots with fresh blood
And sometimes die.
Among the little lead soldiers
There is no death made of lead.
No figurines of innocents
Crying terror in their tears.
So, Uncle, how can anybody
Seriously play soldier, play war?
Poetic Voices without Boundaries
NOMAD OF SILENCE
Translated by C.M. Mayo
Soon the bridges will disappear
Rivers, seas will swallow the earth
we will go begging, if at all
air for eyes
wind over the muteness of the sands.
And what can I do with the waters
with these islands of dark rock
with the famished clouds that float past
gray with sadness.
Before marching to the dunes
nomad in silence
if Keats could hear me
if even wise Jefferson were listening
I would shout
with the choked voice of the desert
"I prefer to write aimlessly
than to write in desperation"
(Published in Poetic Voices Without Borders, Washington, DC. Gival Press: 2005)
UNDESIRABLE THINGS
Translated by Yvette Neisser
This light of ice.
The mildew that invades the naked thigh.
The voices that disappear
in the ambush of days.
The rite of lighting candles for rain,
for noise or for any other promise.
The rust of invoked shadows.
Unpardonable sins.
The mute wake of fire.
Nails with fresh blood.
Defeat.
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