A Yound Boy's Prayer
Look at me, I stand before You;
I have no shirt, no shoes.
I’m only a young boy, only a child;
Look at me, or are you blind?
Talk to me, answer me;
To whom shall I call, if not to You?
On my knees I come to You;
Talk to me, or are you dumb?
Hear my prayer, hear my voice;
I’m only a person, not only a number.
Only praise have I always had for You;
Hear my prayer, or are You deaf?
Save me from the Nazi ovens;
If I die, my beliefs also die.
I have no water, no bread;
Save me, or are You also dead?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Amtrak Angel
The seat beside me is empty
No Circe with golden curls;
No charming dazzling maiden.
Where are the dimpled girls?
I long to chat with someone
of the gracious, tender sex;
my taste is for the lovelies
with long and slender necks.
Ah, my Amtrak angel,
sit here by my side:
at 85 I’m harmless-
relax, enjoy the ride.
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Prayer
Come rain, come shine,
come cold, come hot,
I thank Thee, Lord,
for what I’ve got.
Come health, come pain,
come joy, come sorrow,
I thank Thee, Lord,
for each tomorrow.
Come good, come bad,
come life, come death,
I thank Thee, Lord,
For every breath.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Old Guy
Look at the old guy, she said.
At fifteen a sixty-seven year old
bicycle rider must appear strange,
an affront to her sense of propriety,
anomalous as a grandfather
playing Romeo.
But maybe she meant:
look at that terrific old guy-
legs and thighs like iron
bare chested, tan as a lifeguard---
I hope my daddy looks like him
when he’s an old man.
Or maybe she meant:
Look at that crazy old guy,
trying to look and act young;
he should be riding a rocking chair.
Maybe…
She’s got her nerve.
The hell with her.
But I am a n old guy.
Not old old.
Old
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tiger at the Window
Famine-sightless, soundless-
engulfs the dessicated earth.
Children’s bellies swell like melons
in a fruitful Eden, collapse
like wombs of sterile women.
Arms and legs wither-
fat, flesh, and muscle
cannibalized by the shrinking body.
Flies crawl in eyes,
nostrils, ears, pullulating sores.
Locked in our home,
every entrance bolted,
we try to escape.
A tiger, white in the moonlight,
Appears at a window,
crashes through the glass.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To My Wife-In Memoriam
I miss your hand in mine
As we walked at ocean’s edge.
I miss the sly perfume
Of your black, silken hair.
I miss your lips on mine
Your murmuring in my ear,
Offering luscious delights.
I miss the ripeness of your breasts
In my caressing hands,
The rough passion that left us
Gentle, trembling, and laughing.
I miss the closeness of silence,
That sharing that needs no words,
I miss our playful love,
The lodestar of our lives.
I miss telling you,
“You are my only love.”
Oh, my sweetheart, my wife,
My one, my only love,
How I miss you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Music at Auschwitz
Arbeit Macht Frei-
Ha ha ha ha ha.
It’s a joke, Jew.
Yah, work makes you free-
Free to die of exhaustion
Ha ha ha ha ha.
You like the lively music of your
Jew orchestra?
They’re playing for the new arrivals.
They think they’ll be
Dancing to it soon.
Happy, foot tapping chamber music.
Eins, tavei, drei.
Ach, du lieber, Augustin.
Yah, chamber music-
Gas chamber music,
Ha ha ha ha ha.
You didn’t think us Nazis have
Such a good sense of humor.
You know Beethoven’s 9th symphony?
Alle menschen verden bruder.
That’s a real good joke, jew.
Ha ha ha ha ha.
All mankind becomes brothers,
Not jew vermin.
Ha ha ha ha ha.
Ha ha ha.
Ha.
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