No Rush
California
poppies, little cups of gold
in no rush at all
Necklace
Each second a bead
the old clock keeps on saying
the necklace of life
Aftermath
Aftermath of love
when the dead are mists in mind
changing shape, color
Single Breath
Everything I write –
shorthand for a single breath
shorthand that falls short
Wafers
Wafers of blue sky
sandwiched in between cloud sheep
that have no shepherd
Amber
The amber of tea
traps all of my reflections,
then lets me drink them
Requiem
Toothless
A kind of waking,
old age slays the dreams of youth,
leaves dragons toothless
Stick
My father’s a stick,
shedding flesh while yet he walks
and talks – his own ghost
One Tooth
Father, you look old
beyond old, just one tooth left,
mind bright as a bird
New Pains
My old father’s got
new pains, springtime of shadows
that herald death’s bloom
Pain
My father visits
himself less and less as pain
becomes mind’s master
Father’s Death, October 17, 2002
Listen to water
running over rock, singing
what it has to sing
This Rock
This rock doesn’t know
you’re gone and I have no way
to say what’s happened
Naked
I was naked when
I heard the news of your death,
became more naked
Shroud Of Earth
In his shroud of earth,
old father’s an enigma
before words, after
The Last Time We Spoke
The last time we spoke,
you were still you, your staunch self,
most familiar ghost
In Your Beret
You, in your beret,
in fall woods with your lit pipe,
now, no longer you
Magician
Death’s a magician
who has wrapped you in his cloak,
leaving bereft bones
G
Mourning changes g –
the heft of my heart, how close
I am to the fall
Your Eye
Your eye was steadfast
and despairing all at once
as if hope could kill
You Lost Everything
You lost everything
over again with each breath –
possessed, dispossessed
Father
Father, you’re buried
in the middle of nowhere,
where the pine box rots
History
You were history
whom I chased through continents
of grace and carnage
Basket
A man’s a basket
for ghosts who work on him just
as they did in life
Wealth
My ghosts are my wealth,
tutelary spirits, wise
and beyond wisdom
Ghost Society
Ghost society
debates fine points in my breast,
sweetly solves nothing
My You
Love both counterfeits
and invents – I never knew
any but my you
Off-White Pine Box
That off-white pine box
was ostentatiously plain,
just as you once were
Old Pipe
I have an old pipe
of yours that hasn’t felt fire
in twenty-five years
Still
Each day I wake up
and I ask, “Are you still dead?”
and you don’t answer
Gust
A gust of wind comes
like the police to break up
a meeting of leaves
Smell Of You
Smell of you, some days,
is on me, as if within
I cooked your kettle
December Dawn
It’s another month
since you died – sunlight perches
high in bare-boned oak
Holding Hands
A man and a boy
make a riddle of future
and past holding hands
Bridge Too Far
From the Vistula
to the Cuyahoga, you
were a bridge too far
I Would Have
I would have remade
the life you lived before you
made me, foolish child
That Smile
Just where did you find
that smile, dropped from a rainbow
promising too much?
Maimed
More severely now,
in death, I know you, father,
maimed by history
Just Habit
Why does this light still
sculpt your shadow when you’re gone –
is it just habit?
You Without You
Your shadow is you
without you and I’ve glimpsed it
in my bedroom, too
Dreaming New
I’m dreaming of you,
night after night, in scenes I
don’t know from the past
Ninety
Ninety, you granted
the corpses you saw at four
were gruesome, held you
Slipped Out
When suffering came
you just slipped out the window,
left your house to it
You, Three
You were barely three –
starvation taught you this trick
good, too, at life’s end
One Hour
You were yourself in
irony one hour before
you died – we spoke, laughed
Shy Cloud Eyes
You were bitterness
in the belly, shy cloud eyes
in a wind worked face
Your Mother
Right to the end, you
held fast to your mother, so
still within your pain
Luck
You were so lucky
the one who bore you helped you
walk earth’s way to death
Rachel
Blonde and blue eyed, she
was white-haired when you left her,
rainbow as you went
Foundations
Foundations, they were
what worried you, held you rapt
looking for the cracks
Vain
You were vain, next best
thing to forgetting, making
yourself your whole world
Clotting Out Loud
A vanity all
the devastated know, like
blood clotting out loud
Tropics’ Kindness
You learned your last years
to love tropics’ kindness, where
all things rot faster
Your Grave
I promised myself
I’d never visit your grave
because you’re not there
Motherland’s Son
Your motherland’s son,
you used vodka to numb the pain
to the very end
Rich, Rumbling Speech
So many Sundays
I spoke with you, just now, heard
your rich, rumbling speech
Phantom Pain
Loss of those you loved
amputated hope, whose stump
filled with phantom pains
How You Told Of Elvira Violini
Just the slightest pause
in a tale of long ago –
passion’s signature
After The Solstice
After the solstice,
mourning dawns bright, clear and blue –
I’m looking for you
Mountain
You are a mountain,
I’m a little boy again –
your hand hangs from sky
Sellers Of Old Maps
We walked by the Seine,
past the sellers of old maps,
as I made my world
Through Your Eyes
I’ve seen through your eyes
worlds I couldn’t imagine –
Cossacks whose laughs kill
Haunting
Who knows whom you loved
and lost, so spring mornings were
haunted by song, scents?
No Artist
You were no artist-
no images escaped you
or helped you escape
Walls Of Snow
Between walls of snow
you walked that far off winter,
and kept it in you
You Slept So Little
You slept so little
and worried so much, not just
about the future
Forty Years
I had a long dream
of you, forty years younger,
looking like yourself
I’d Forget
if you came back, I’d
not ask a single question –
I’d forget them all
Babel’s Bones
You spoke to yourself
French, Polish, Russian, Hebrew –
you knew Babel’s bones
Fishhooks
Lying all about
you left questions that caught me,
fishhooks in rainbows
What You Gave
What you gave was far
too precious for mere giving –
I’ve no name for it
Directly To The Soul
The body’s language
speaks directly to the soul –
yours told me so much
Secret Seed
So many furrows
your brow had, like a ploughed field
that held secret seed
Last Day Of Your Last Year
This is the last day
of the last year that you lived –
sad to let it go
When I Was Seven
The sound of your cough
was the thunder in my night,
as you sought, fled death
Of Nowhere
You began to dream
of nowhere and of nothing,
of dreaming’s end, too
Empty Slate Eyes
You listened to us
from courtesy or kindness
with empty slate eyes
Young And Pretty
“When I was young
and pretty,” you’d say, with eyes
downcast, ironic
Immunology
Grafts fascinated
you when you were young – and then
you became one here
Top Of The Stove
As a little boy
you slept on top of the stove
with a snoring dog
Elephant Tusk
Your elephant tusk
sits in this room as I write –
you didn’t want it
Dark Debts
From a foolish friend
it came fifty years ago –
you’d paid his dark debts
1953
You’d return insane
with grief from cold Germany
and howl silently
Letters You’ll Never Read
I write you letters
you’ll never read, answer, but
still we correspond
Return to Russia
Sleepless in Moscow,
you sipped tea with babushkas,
said nothing had changed
Your Knees
Gentleness I’d find
in your knees when I’d stand there
looking so far up
Dented
Both bald and dented
was your head, from a hard blow
struck so long ago
Another Missing
Grieving has left me
for a time and I miss it,
just as I miss you
Third Full Moon
This, the third full moon
since you died, shines high and bright,
cold pearl, free of hurt
Parachute
Song’s the parachute
that slows down my fall into
a world without you
Black Capped Chickadee
Smaller, smaller, small
as a black-capped chickadee
you became, dying
Eight
You’re nowhere while birds
call your name in the eight tongues
you spoke with the wind
So Quietly
So quietly do
I miss you that I wonder
sometimes if I am
Mask
Your expressions, Dad,
have taken over my face –
memories unmasked
Bone Stalk
The garden we’ve made
absorbs me – my head’s a bloom
swaying on bone stalk
Gold Stitched
Firefly gold stitched nights
of summer you sat silent
puffing on your past
As If By Braille
I learned my father’s
melancholy, as if by
Braille, by touch talking
As Oriole Sings
As oriole sings,
telephone rings in my head,
“Is that you, Dad, dead?”
Gravel
Your voice’s gravel, Dad,
I miss, as I look at all
the flood scoured and moved
October 3, 2003 – Mother’s Death
Death against the odds,
an allergic reaction
in early autumn
So You’re Gone
So you’re gone, mother,
whom I never quite knew, since
you weren’t quite you
At The Graveside
“Did you know, Roger,
we’re sitting on top of Dad?”
“Yes, Tamar, I did”
First Shock
The first shock has passed,
so that I can begin to grieve
with the falling leaves
Mom And Dad
Apart together
you’ll lie in Ohio clay,
dreamless, undisturbed
Dying
Inexpressible
as the full moon setting now
is dying, the end
Mitochondrial DNA
Mitochondrion,
tiny power plant, inscribed
with Ma’s initials
(M)Other
I always meant you
to be other than you were,
just as you did me
Here
Here in the moonlight
I’m writing in the presence
of the subtlest shades
Each Death
Each death makes me feel
more vulnerable, closer
kin of earth, air, night
Come Back
I wish I heard you
whispering in this cold rain,
trying to come back
Your Ghosts
When I was little
you walked beside me – now, still,
your ghosts hold my hands
Dead A Year (Dad)
You’re becoming clay
who in life was its close kin,
one who read it well
Fabulous Loss
Now I have lost all
the fabulous certainties
of my strange childhood
Stuck
I am always stuck
between “Hello” and “Goodbye”,
mispronouncing both
Memoriam
Sometimes I can read
my parents’ shapes in the clouds,
then wind scatters them
Foolishness
Dad, please forgive me
foolishness of a headstone
for where you are not
Wink
In my dreams, the dead
walk and talk, wink knowingly –
“You are one of us”
Flying Carpet
You’ve become figures
in the carpet of my dreams –
will you fly me home?
One White Whisker
Just one white whisker
caught in sun says sleeping cat
is not a gray rock
Peas
Today’s dawning is
unlike yesterday’s, unlike
as peas in a pod
Not White
I’d begin again
if I could find alphabet
whose hair was not white