Walk with me on rocky paths along an algaed-creek
Your off-lead dog leading us
Walk with me shivering on ice carpets
To tres bon restaurants and palaces of art
Walk with me past Middle Age baby Jesus painted gold
Sit with me, in a chair for one, our glassed-over eyes scanning for significance
Your side pressed close to mine, comforting
Sit with me on your porch puffing smoke into the evening air
Your dog dropping slobbered toys on our laps
Sit with me, let’s watch grass grow and wither
Leaves fall and reappear
Ride me, cry out to me with naught to tell me but my name
Ride me, your hips and lips erasing all words mis-written on my page
Ride me to that oblivion where the whole world shoots through us quaking
Delude me, tell me I’m not unimportant, I’m your one
Delude me, let me hope our love endures all nights to come
Delude me, and kiss me when you walk me to the door.
Blog of David Ginsberg, containing fictional stories, musings, and anecdotes of a neurotic crank.
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Sunday, March 23, 2014
American Identity Card
I composed the following poem in 2011, frustrated that America backed Israel's efforts to block the declaration of Palestinian statehood. The point of departure is a famous lament by Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish.
Inscribe that I’m American
With a treasury overfull of empty promises
I give borrowed money to your enemies
To buy the truncheons thwacking your knees
My silence highers a concrete wall between your eyes
and your uprooted trees
While bullets rip the flesh of destinies
And fiery ordnance whose solemn syllable decrees
Deceitful vows of vengeances
I composed the following poem in 2011, frustrated that America backed Israel's efforts to block the declaration of Palestinian statehood. The point of departure is a famous lament by Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish.
Inscribe that I’m American
With a treasury overfull of empty promises
I give borrowed money to your enemies
To buy the truncheons thwacking your knees
My silence highers a concrete wall between your eyes
and your uprooted trees
While bullets rip the flesh of destinies
And fiery ordnance whose solemn syllable decrees
Deceitful vows of vengeances
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