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    Selected Poems, 1956-1968

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      I wanted to be

      when I was seven years old

      a perfect man

      who kills

      W H E N I M E E T Y O U I N T H E

      S M A L L S T R E E T S

      When I meet you in the small streets

      of rain-streaked movies

      and old-fashioned shaving equipment,

      you smile at me from my blood, saying:

      an obsolete wisdom would have married us

      when I was fourteen, 0 my teacher.

      I walk through your Moorish eyes

      into sun and mathematics. I polish

      Holland diamonds, and deep into Russia

      I codify in one laser verse the haphazard

      numbers leaping from each triangular storyoh all world-hated flashing work

      I make precise

      for the sake of the perfect world.

      Like jigsaw pieces married too early

      in the puzzle we are pried apart

      for every new experiment, as if simplicity

      and good luck were not enough to build

      a rainbow through gravity and mist.

      I T H A S B E E N S O M E T I M E

      It has been some time

      since I took away

      a woman's perfume on my skin

      I remember tonight

      how sweet I used to find it

      and tonight I've forgotten nothing

      of how little it means to me

      knowing in my heart

      we would never be lovers

      thinking much more about suicide and money

      A P E R S O N W H O E A T S M E A T

      A person who eats meat

      wants to get his teeth into something

      A person who does not eat meat

      wants to get his teeth into something else

      If these thoughts interest you for even a moment

      you are lost

      I 233

      W H O W I L L F I N A L L Y S A Y

      Who will finally say

      you are perfect

      Who will choose you

      in order to edit your secrets

      I sing this for your children

      I sing this for the crickets

      I sing this for the army

      for all who do not need me

      Whom will you address

      first thing tomonow morning

      your dreams so bureaucratic

      you refuse to appear in them

      How beautiful the solemn are

      Yes I have noticed you

      Whoever gives you money

      will be remembered for his pride

      I love to speak to you this way

      knowing how you came to me

      leaving everything unsaid

      that might employ us

      When you are torn

      when your silver is torn

      take down this book and find

      your place in my head

      234 I

      W A I T I N G T O T E L L T H E D O C T O R

      Waiting to tell the doctor

      that he failed

      and that I failed

      I count the few remaining coins

      I should have dropped at Monte Carlo

      in the little wishing well

      they offer you with the gun

      still thinking about you

      and the sparks between us

      dull, milky and peculiar now

      like dimes that have been dipped

      in mercury too long ago

      Last night I asked my brain

      to put back into my loins

      my love for you

      Free at last I fell asleep

      both of us naked and hungry

      I am sure you willed me

      the fullest audience with your body

      on condition I die

      What did you leave in my room

      on my bed

      against the wall

      that is so cold and impossible and greedy

      I 235

      I T ' S G O O D T O S I T W I T H P E O P L E

      It's good to sit with people

      who are up so late

      your other homes wash away

      and other meals you left

      unfinished on the plate

      It's just coffee

      and a piano player's cigarette

      and Tim Hardin's song

      and the song in your head

      that always makes you wait

      I'm thinking of you

      little Frederique

      with your white white skin

      and your stories of wealth

      in Normandy

      I don't think I ever told you

      that I wanted to save the world

      watching television

      while we made Jove

      ordering Greek wine and olives for you

      while my friend scattered

      dollar bills over the head

      of the belly-dancer

      under the clarinettes of Eighth Avenue

      listening to your plans

      for an exclusive pet shop in Paris

      Your mother telephoned me

      she said I was too old for you

      and I agreed

      but you came to my room

      one morning after a long time

      because you said you loved me

      From time to time I meet men

      who said they gave you money

      and some girls have said

      that you weren't really a model

      Don't they know what it means

      to be lonely

      lonely for boiled eggs in silver cups

      lonely for a large dog

      who obeys your voice

      lonely for rain in Normandy

      seen through leaded windows

      lonely for a fast car

      lonely for restaurant asparagus

      lonely for a simple prince

      and an explorer

      I'm sure they know

      but we are all creatures of envy

      we need our stone fingernails

      on another's beauty

      we demand the hidden love

      of everyone we meet

      the hidden love not the daily love

      Your breasts are beautiful

      warm porcelain taste

      of worship and greed

      Your eyes come to me

      under the perfect spikes

      of imperishable eyelashes

      Your mouth living

      on French words

      and the soft ashes of your make-up

      Only with you

      I did not imitate myself

      only with you

      I 237

      I asked for nOlhing

      your long long fingers

      deciphering your hair

      your lace blouse

      borrowed from a photographer

      the bathroom lights

      flashing on your new red fingernails

      your tall legs at attemion

      as I watch you from my bed

      while you brush dew

      from the mirror

      to work behind the enemy lines

      of your masterpiece

      Come to me if you grow old

      come to me if you need coffee

      D O N O T F O R G E T O L D F R I E N D S

      Do not forget old friends

      you knew long before I met you

      the times I know nothing about

      being someone

      who lives by himself

      and only visits you on a raid

      M A R I T A

      MARITA

      PLEASE FIND ME

      I AM ALMOST 30

      H E S T U D I E S T O D E S C R I B E

      He studies to describe

      the lover he cannot become

      failing the widest dreams of the mind

      &: settling for visions of God

      The tatters of his discipline

      have no beauty

      that he can hold so easily

      as your beauty


      He does not know how

      to trade himself for your love

      Do not trust him

      unless you love him

      I 239

      I N D E X O F F I R S T L I N E S

      A cloud of grasshoppers,

      A cross didn't fall on me,

      A kite is a victim you are sure of,

      A person who eats meat,

      Aren't you tired,

      As I lay dead,

      As the mist leaves no scar,

      Beneath my hands,

      62

      Beside the shepherd dreams the beast,

      33

      Between the mountains of spices,

      73

      Calm, alone, the cedar guitar,

      Catching winter in their carved nostrils,

      7

      Claim me, blood, if you have a story,

      203

      Clean as the grass from which,

      z86

      Come back to me,

      I78

      Come, my brothers,

      I04

      Come upon this heap,

      99

      Created fires I cannot love,

      202

      Do not arrange your bright flesh in the sun,

      Do not forget old friends,

      During the first pogrom they,

      Edmonton, Alberta, December 1966, 4 a.m.,

      225

      Evidently they need a lot

      IIB

      Eyes: . . . . . . Medium,

      I22

      Finally I called the people I didn't want to hear from, I03

      Flowers for Hitler the summer yawned,

      I34

      For a lovely instant I thought she would grow mad,

      9

      For you,

      76

      For your sake I said I will praise the moon,

      52

      Foreign God, reigning in earthly glory,

      2z3

      Found once again shamelessly ignoring

      I93

      Give me back my fingerprints,

      2II

      Give me back my house,

      I7I

      Go by brooks, love,

      4 3

      24 1

      God, God, God, someone of my family,

      72

      He has returned from countless wars,

      8

      He pulled a flower,

      22

      He studies to describe,

      2 39

      He was beautiful when he sat alone, he was like me,

      he had,

      205

      He was lame,

      I95

      He was wearing a black moustache and leather hair,

      126

      Here we are at the window . . . ,

      185

      His blood on my arm is warm as a bird,

      4

      His last love poem,

      97

      His pain, unowned, he left,

      102

      Hitler the brain-mole looks out of my eyes,

      98

      How you murdered your family,

      16

      Hurt once and for all into silence,

      44

      I almost went to bed,

      68

      I am a priest of God,

      207

      I am locked in a very expensive suit,

      90

      I am one of those who could tell . .

      78

      I am sorry that the rich man must go,

      168

      I am too loud when you are gone,

      195

      I ask you where you want to go,

      I)O

      I believe you heard your master sing,

      214

      I don't believe the radio stations,

      95

      I do not know if the world has lied,

      87

      I had it for a moment,

      1)5

      I have not lingered in European monasteries,

      45

      I have two bars of soap,

      6o

      I heard of a man,

      )0

      I long to hold some lady,

      64

      I met a woman long ago,

      198

      I met you,

      227

      I once believed a single line,

      124

      I see you on a Greek mattress,

      188

      I stepped into an avalanche,

      217

      I want your warm body to disappear,

      142

      I was the last passenger of the day,

      128

      I wonder how many people in this city,

      42

      I would like to remind,

      167

      242

      If I had a shining head,

      I2

      If this looks like a poem,

      56

      If your neighbor disappears,

      JI

      In almond trees lemon trees,

      208

      In his black armour,

      30

      In many movies I came upon an idol,

      I40

      In the Bible generations pass

      I92

      Is there anything emptier,

      89

      It has been some time,

      233

      It's good to sit with people,

      236

      It's just a city, darling,

      224

      It's so simple,

      I I4

      It swings, Jocko,

      46

      I've seen some lonely history,

      200

      January 28 1962,

      9I

      Layton, when we dance our freilach,

      69

      Listen all you bullets,

      I7 3

      Listen to the stories,

      93

      Loving you, flesh to flesh, I often thought,

      59

      MARITA,

      239

      Martha they say you are gentle,

      Ioo

      My friend walks through our city this winter night,

      I76

      My lady can sleep,

      58

      My lady was found mutilated,

      26

      My love, the song is less than sung,

      54

      My lover Peterson,

      20

      My rabbi has a silver buddha,

      II6

      Nothing has been broken,

      I84

      One night I burned the house

      loved,

      I90

      Out of some simple part of me,

      III

      Out of the land of heaven,

      7I

      Poems! break out!

      II)

      Queen Victoria,

      243

      Several faiths,

      I 32

      She sings so nice,

      2 3 I

      She tells me a child built her house,

      J2

      Silence,

      70

      Snow is falling,

      20I

      So you're the kind of vegetarian,

      I8J

      Somewhere in my trophy room

      I96

      Strafed by the Milky Way,

      IJ9

      Suzanne takes you down,

      209

      Suzanne wears a leather coat,

      I89

      The big world will lind out,

      174

      The broom is an army of straw,

      226

      The coherent statement was made,

      IJI

      The day wasn't exactly my own,

      88

      The famous doctor held up Grandma's stomach,

      92

      The flowers that I left in the ground,

      38

      The miracle we all are waiting for,

      IJ4

      The moon dangling wet like a half-plucked eye,

      28

      The naked weeping girl,

      II

      The nightmares do not suddenly,

      18I

      The pai
    n-monger came home,

      1 1 5

      The reason I write,

      2JI

      The snow was falling,

      I75

      The stony path coiled around me,

      I 19

      The sun is tangled,

      21

      The torture scene developed under a glass bell,

      I I7

      The warrior boats from Portugal,

      I4

      There are some men,

      40

      This could be my little,

      ro6

      This is for you,

      221

      This morning I was dressed by the wind,

      216

      Those unshadowed ligures, rounded lines of men,

      5

      Tonight I will live with my new white skin,

      IJ7

      Toronto has been good to me,

      I64

      Towering black nuns frighten us,

      24

      Two hours off the branch and burnt,

      IJ8

      Two went to sleep,

      I9I

      Under her grandmother's patchwork quilt,

      65

      244

      Waiting to tell the doctor,

      235

      We meet at a hotel,

      129

      Whatever cities are brought down,

      4 1

      When I hear you sing,

      194

      When I meet you in the small streets,

      232

      When I paid the sun to run,

      187

      When this American woman,

      IO

      When we learned that his father

      123

      When with lust I am smitten,

      67

      When you kneel below me,

      6I

      When young the Christians told me,

      3

      Who is purer,

      roB

      Who will finally say,

      234

      With all Greek heroes,

      r8

      With Annie gone,

      68

      You dance on the day you saved,

      172

      You do not have to love me,

      223

      You have the lovers,

      50

      You know where I have been,

      197

      You live like a god,

      229

      You recited the Code of Comparisons,

      165

      You tell me that silence,

      39

      I 245

      Document Outline

      Cover

      Title Page

      Copyright

      CONTENTS

      I. Let Us Compare Mythologies

      II. The Spice-Box of Earth

      III. Flowers for Hitler

      IV. Parasites of Heaven

      V. New Poems

      Index of First Lines

     

     

     



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