There appears to be an inane assumption,When we prize too dearly the groans people makeAnd their pain and complaint and compunctionOf some less tender portions of their fate; It would seem that people don’t like the bother;I’ve met young women afraid to leave their roomsBecause they know what a burden they are to others:They believed too well the words others used. Just look at the … Continue reading Inconvenience by Zeke Greenwald
Blood gets transfused into my veinsFrom a bag which from the ceiling hangs;Some pipettes from the bottom runLike legs with someone else’s blood. So the maroon cephalopodFloats from the pole it’s fastened on;Staved by a hook, it makes a squid,Who slowly bleeds out drip by drip;I lay below the drying fishOf plastic bag with blood in it. What is blood, but such basic stuff,But blood’s … Continue reading Bubonic Colonic by Zeke Greenwald
Were those really bats we sawover the Hinterhof?Or were they birds swirlingto show the evening off? And was it really hemlockWhich grew around the lake?Or was it an umbellifer,Which it wouldn’t kill to take? Was it really all that grey?Were the streets at night so dark?If Berlin was so morose,Luke, I need not pine at all. Yet German doctors wrote you rosesTo combat your stress.And … Continue reading Chemical Imbalance by Zeke Greenwald
A still grasshopper’s swivelingHis antennae endlesslyBecause he’s lost. Two iridescent alley fliesCircle the house until they dieAlso confused. Just as the house does to the bugs,A very old and yellow spongeDries in the sink. And I am, too, thus at a lossTo be not so like how I was,Or want to be. Continue reading Infestation by Zeke Greenwald
My hair sweats in the hot weather;I think there’s something to be saidThat somehow I can be made hotterBy the thin hair on my head. I’d like to be able to take a walkAnd not break out in a sweatWhich drips out of the folliclesLike a bleeding paper cut. The wound is small, but still the goreDistills somewhat profuselyFor apparently it doesn’t takeA lot to … Continue reading Hélas by Zeke Greenwald
It’s early morning, I hear an owl;I heard that owl a night agoWhen a strahl of orange street lamps wereA brass band for a single owl tone. That’s when I went to sleep, and likeOther people I was in bed;I did as others for a night,But I’m an unfellowed kind of man. I heard the owl this morning for Last night I didn’t get to sleep.Once … Continue reading Hooters by Zeke Greenwald
Annie told me just one thing,When I bought a knapsack:Not to fill it over-full‘fore I put it on my back It seemed like advice I’d keepWhen she said it, in that moment.Since then life’s made demands from me;Since then I’ve over filled it I’d like to say I’ve helped my Bag with its longevity.But what choice had I, when I’veHad burdens, but make it heavy. Continue reading My Sack by Zeke Greenwald
In Annie’s apartment there is some stuffFrom which thin things she’s made decorAs if she didn’t just move in there,And life worked out for her before. Luke rearranged the furnitureIn the room where he’s been living. He uses his space better nowThan he did in the beginning. I invite you now, look at my room:There’s not much by way of showing.I’ve kept it sparse, not confidentThat … Continue reading Spartan by Zeke Greenwald
Please do not be kind to me, I think that’d be best; I’m alone and unaccustomed To any easiness. I might cease to struggle forth; I might just lose heart; For I’m tense, and your tenderness Might take me apart. I’m inflated with long patience; I fear your kind relief Might strike the balloon Of my striving grief. I’ve been propelled, light and rigid, And … Continue reading Breathed in helium… by Zeke Greenwald
I called my grandma on the phone To ask about the news: Her neighborhood was down the lives Of some a dozen Jews. There’s a funeral today, and then Another one tomorrow; On Thursday they’ll still inter The victims of the sorrow. On Friday, Grandma goes once more To a funeral, Back in the day Shirley was Her neighbor after all. “Friday is really kind … Continue reading I called my grandma… by Zeke Greenwald
