Ways of death
In my being there are cracks filled with death
how much I lack
in holy language this becomes
“your servant”
and cracks my knees
catches the wrinkled desert earth
thirsty for the life taken from her
death speaks to her from within
the darkness of passages
death is inside it
she is so quiet
not yet knowing fear.
translated from Hebrew:
Michael Simkin
Categories:
simkin, death
Form: Lyric
At Cafe Bacho
This evening we sat in Cafe Bacho on King George street after
House of the Flying Daggers
The most poetic film I ever saw
I said
And I sank into a romantic triangle
which is not possible with this bizarre
waitress with a chopped hair-cut
I said to her
that she is special
She said
So are you
Then I reminded my ex-husband that a sentence can lie within another sentence
He used to hold my hand with courage for courage's sake
Tears fell down my cheeks and sank in the jasmine tea,
which the waitress
Brought
Maybe it’s she who really made me cry
She seemed like a Christian Georgian woman in a homely pub in Tbilisi
You said:
The cushions are over here
You mentioned that Erez called and didn't mention me
You said:
He got burnt
Not a word about
You
I said that I also thought about him
I said that Oren called
And you explained how she died a mysterious death she the poetess
Who went after anyone who wanted her
In Eilat
An investigation won’t bring the words back
I spoke with a free spirit
But the butterfly didn't fly
translated from Hebrew:
Michael Simkin
Categories:
simkin, lost loveme,
Form: Lyric
Paint Me Ablaze
paint me ablaze
like Rome
start from the head eyeballs mouth nose
castle
hills via neck
harnessed
dusty roads
long hands fingers of
books
waist stomach
kingdom of sorrow
all the king's seats
streams of the fields
and valleys of love
my thighs and knees will slowly burn
for a sign of my future shame
paint
a birth mark
my calves that are trained to go stright ahead til the ankles
convents
feet
toes
the king's army
like an air my name will burn
my meaning will be strewn from my ashes
any sense from my tendons will be free
translated from Hebrew:
Michael Simkin
Categories:
simkin, loveme,
Form: Lyric
Next to the Blue House
Next to the blue house there was silence and an espresso machine
For six shekels
I could break off my rumbling stomach’s static economics
And enter the collected films of Felinni
We had sex before
Parallel to another couple in the adjacent room
She loved his dick
At the moment that you glued quietness to the ceiling of the shabby hotel room
Again Fellinni with bags of cottage cheese crosses the street lengthways
A man in the heart of the desert night
And we are there
In a new edition of existence
And I’m already not laughing about your quantum proof of God’s
Being
translated from Hebrew:
Michael Simkin
Categories:
simkin, life, blue,
Form: Lyric