Details |
Gabriel Levicky Poem
FOR YEHUDA AMICHAI
Gabriel A. Levicky
When a poet dies,
Rewind his piercing fingers
And
Shout:
Open the gates!
When a poet flies by,
Brush your remaining hair
And
Build a tent
In the heart of a new poem.
When a poet is born again,
Learn how to walk on the water
And
Reinvent long-lasting kisses.
Copyright © Gabriel Levicky | Year Posted 2012
|
Details |
Gabriel Levicky Poem
Gabriel A. Levicky
MY FATHER IS DANCING WITH DEATH
His elephant ears moved.
His ash face, straight from a collection of death masks
Those behind dust covered windows.
And yes.
His dentures, click, click run away,
Scaring very young nurses.
His legs, a pair of prehistoric bird wings
Ready to be folded
In case there is not enough room when under.
His watery eyes see a different future.
The one where he was a little boy, chasing dogs
In love with weeping willows.
His scary razor thin lips, once rich and juicy, gathering
Silent questions
His mouth, a cave full of
Hunting scenes, sacrifice-ready animals.
His hands, bloodlessly flipping
So fast we can’t see it.
The exit sign ahead begged us to leave.
My dropped jaws followed.
I turned around.
My father is dancing with Death.
His elephant ears like his clan banner,
Wave in this stiff-air room,
Creating a draft
That changes everything…
Humenne, Slovakia March ‘09
Copyright © Gabriel Levicky | Year Posted 2012
|
Details |
Gabriel Levicky Poem
Gabriel A. Levicky
A DEAD TYPEWRITER
OR
1000 + 1 JUDEN VERLASSEN*
Here I go again!
The not-so blind date
With history
Narrowed my and-I-thought-they-have-seen-everything eyes.
All I can touch
Is
A paper, a report
Blown in from the past.
Everything else becomes a crippling echo.
Paris 9.4.1942
To
Berlin.
Attention: Eichmann.
Time: 8:55 am, transport # D901/23
From Le Bourget-Drancy to Auschwitz
With 1000 Jews
Has been just dispatched.*
Each Jew received 2-week provisions.
Please confirm.
Neatly typed Pica letters report.
On a polished typewriter,
A victim of war,
Now long dead.
The earth is not round yet
And
It is not turning.
Only the past is rotating, whirling
In the autumn park carousel.
Now you feel it.
Now you don’t.
NYC, October’ 01
*Based on the found written report dated 9/4/1942, sent at 10:30 AM by an anonymous Nazi officer stationed in Paris
to Eichmann
in Berlin
Copyright © Gabriel Levicky | Year Posted 2012
|
Details |
Gabriel Levicky Poem
OUR JOURNEY
Gabriel A. Levicky
All this Universe and all it takes is a blink of a right eye
While the other happily announces our end.
This journey is long & short at the same time.
Gods deserted this vastness
Only their black hole mirrors remained.
Now it is gas and space, space and gas
Like a scoop of life melting 2 million light years away.
How I wish not to be afraid of rebirths and silent distances
Irrelevant to our cosmic insignificance.
It is a real race out there.
Who will invent another god soon?
Who will lick the memories in a glass jar?
Count cold fingers of unknown & borrow heat of yesterdays?
Who is wiser when everything is gone?
Your void is powerful enough
To be reborn as an imperfect ? mark.
Does this sun play Ping-Pong with our Moon!
Tell me what else you need to believe in faith?
It is quite clear
Our journey is almost complete when least expected.
Never question echo’s depth
&
Rivers determination.
If you are lucky, you might forget
About yourself.
NYC, July 2012
Copyright © Gabriel Levicky | Year Posted 2012
|
Details |
Gabriel Levicky Poem
FOR KUBRA
Gabriel a. Levicky
Who are you my burned, shimmering steppes Goddess?
Perhaps Seljuk’s priestess
Holding a dagger that erases every illusionary age?
You’ve arrived like a confused, lost dove,
Carrying secret messages I wish I could devour
&
Resuscitate as a different mirror.
Yes, you are here.
Boiling my blind, unbearable fantasy.
You might remember me as a speck of dust.
There is no one able to replace you.
So, I am searching in the ruins to build you a temple,
My Goddess of Now.
But, wait!
Don’t throw these keys away yet…
NYC July 2012
Copyright © Gabriel Levicky | Year Posted 2012
|