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1

AUTUMN WOODS

I like to roam in the woods,

when dashing threads of cranes

stitch through the autumn sky

above the morning chilly dew.

On a transparent spider web

attached to air, moist drops

glisten under cool sunrays

that sift through feathered clouds

and weaken on a lone snailing path.

and a brown carpet rustled

under my intruding feet.

I like to roam in the woods,

smell musty bark,

catch a drifting maple leaf

that floats down in a slow mood

from disrobed embarrassed trees,

as if they hibernate in grief

of losing their summery attire.

I like to roam in the woods,

see branches still carrying

trembling leaves on brittle stems,

that swing and swing,

and blend my breath with autumn

and whisper along with mild wind:

next spring, next spring, next spring.

                        

      September, 1987. Connecticut

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3

OLD VENETIAN GARDEN

      (Inspired By Trio Grapevine By Inessa Zaretsky)

The arch of a wrought-iron gate,

carved in a thick stone wall.

Behind it is a dormant garden,

drown in the noon lethargy.

Twirled, knotted vines

dotted with tiny purple flowers

sprawl down the wall's rough grayness,

over moss and silver patina.

A surprising summer rain

disrupts the stale air

with taps on its marble frame

and popping bubbles on a pond.

It patters on evergreens, bushed around,

on a gravel path, flanked

by pointed slender cypresses,

on the darkness, ran into the deep.

Rain stops as suddenly as it began.

Through the lacy canopy of trees

sunrays cautiously seep

on glistening lilac leaves,

floating with their own purpose

between the shadows of clouds.

The old garden awakened

for a short moment,

slips again into a doze

of midsummer stillness,

simmering glare

and hazy after-rain perfume.

      February, 2000

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4

Blackbird
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WOMAN CROSSES SIXTH AVENUE

Manhattan at noon is a daymare.

The opaque ribbon of cars and pedestrian stream

cross each other with a wearing city's rhythm.

Tall trucks, like ships, sail above noise,

rodents of unruly taxies scurry among them.

Long, three-axled, limousines, like dachshunds,

stretch from one light to another.

A woman with a cane and scared eyes,

in a long coat and hat,

pulled down to her brows,

stands firmly on a curb,

waiting for a light to change.

Each year shortens her walks -

now the library on 42nd Street

or benches in Washington Square

are a world away.

"Do I need that stupid lettuce?

I could have done without it.

Why didn't I wait until six?

Surely, the crowd will be thinner.

Why didn't I listen to the weather?

It is sixty-five instead of winter."

The light changes,

she starts crossing her Red Sea -

cars on both sides loom scary.

"Has the green become shorter?

Before I always had time to get to the other side.

Forget lettuce - just an ice cream

in the outside corner cafι… when I get there."

 DON'T WALK what an annoying sign,

as if saying, stay home, don't walk, don't breathe, don't live.

But I still do, don't I?"

      February, 2002

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5

MAN TRIES TO HELP HIS SON THROUGH LIFE

My son, a freshman, lost his sleep, stopped eating.

"What happened, son? Are you in love?"

"I think I am.

She is pretty, slender, smart and funny.

In the first row every week I wait for her lecture,

for her tight jeans, her laughter, how she turns her head."

I knew her, years ago she tutored my daughter.

I looked at my son - handsome, tall, bright.

I had an idea, a small plot, unusual for a father.

I called and invited her for lunch.

We met. She looked good in her slim pantsuit,

with a charming and curious smile.

Strangely, my tirade didn't shock her.

"I think my son is in love with you. I know

how love with an older woman thrills and hurts.

Once I had that wonder. She took me to the top,

but I didn't know how high the top was.

As a wise father, I beg you to give him that chance.

My wife would kill me, if she knew -

she wouldn't be able to accept a woman her age

as her son's inamorata.

Please - fate gives, but once."

(I can't even imagine talking to a man of my age

about my daughter's infatuation with him.)

Holding her hand, I looked into her eyes.

I sensed she would be glad that someone,

(why not this slender youth)

at least for a tasty while to spice her life.

"I know that you are interested in music, art.

I promise tickets to theater, exhibits, concerts,

and you will teach him that, also, won't you?

Please, take him."

She smiled.

      February, 2002

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6

WAITING...

We always wait for something

from a cradle to the white shroud.

A baby waits for a soft puppy of a mother breast,

its mouth and hands are ready to grab

something sweet and warm.

We wait for a birthday,

hoping for a bicycle, a ticket to a rock concert,

for a letter to fish out from a mail box,

inviting for a college fun

in another state - far, far away.

We wait for love that smashes us

with a storm, wind-burns, lusty heat.

We wait for a bus on our way to work,

for a trip to Hawaii, Cancun, or just Florida,

for a wind to blow away mid-life problems

that we get ourselves into at forty or fifty.

We wait for the first day, when we don't need

to set an alarm clock,

but already start missing a job's tedium.

We wait for a call from son or, at least, a grandson.

Then we move from living to memory,

furnishing with wants and waits

for anything, something… Miracles?

      February, 2002

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7

Tamara And The Demon
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April 1979, Moscow

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8

I gotta buy some lighter underwear
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INTERVIEW

Where do you like to read your poetry -

at a concert, conference, in a college auditorium?

Mostly in my kitchen to utensils,

or on my deck to chipmunks -

they are quiet and quizzically attentive.

Where do you like to live -

in a house, apartment, city, country cabin?

It doesn't matter - just live dangerously -

I keep at night my back sliding door unlocked,

and fly and drive and hike everywhere.

Where do you like to walk -

in the woods, streets, in the mall?

Surely, on the moon -

there I will weigh six time less

and feel exceptionally good.

Where do you like to make love -

on a thick rug or on a waterbed?

Actually, I prefer in my dream -

without failure, it is always good,

no matter who is in it with me.

      February, 2002

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