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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535714" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Upon Finding A Book Of John Berryman Poems On A Street Corner Manhattan Lower East - A Shabbos Poem</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535714" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">for Gerald & Shirah Kober Zeller</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535714" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">'Lord, lord...why are our finest always dead? ' - Louis Zukovsky</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535714" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>from traffic onto street corner <br>2nd Ave and St. Marks now here <br>Berryman is lifted up from a corner <br>not yet 'spiffied' the works gummed <br>up literally spit out for years <br>countless Chicklets spat <br>2-per-box-a-nickle a lover's <br>quarrel with the shoe-and-should <br>what good come of the chewing <br>masses hurrying home or to ferry <br>over river/bay to old brick <br>even the convent on the hill <br>just up from the undocking <br>crowd is dark for want of mercy</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535714" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"></a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535714" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">two Hassids young bring candles for <br>Shabbas only a few hours till inflamed <br>prayer begins as strong sun sinks to night<br> <br>prayer is oil the dead come home to </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535714" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">perhaps even in this cafe they <br>watch the books gather on the familiar <br>corner where shopkeepers' decades pass <br>hurry home before dark with candles <br>and cares, the wares of religion, the <br>Book & dream, a distant land made close <br>by old songs kindled, 'finest ones' <br>still kindred made the stronger by <br>fire and voices-one mingled with <br>Mendelssohn and the later oranges</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535714" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"></a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535714" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">this East Village once brined <br>now lost savor/salt an altogether <br>godless waste spreading over <br>once-was-more-temple than what<br>is now mere shopping-mall hype </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535714" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>ramparts lift by Chambers above <br>African graves, the slaves of <br>South Ferry, or near, sentinel <br>silently, they are so still</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535714" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"></a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535714" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">ferries toil as lower Manhattan lights <br>a menorah towering despite what is now <br>worshiped there knowing that home, <br>the one sought(even now) more resides<br>in words aflame reciting the Name, One <br>alone, then of patriarchs/saints the <br>bearded whole lot of them who murmur still <br>for all our want and next year next year <br>shall be different for we will no longer <br>be here but in Holy City finally gathered</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535714" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"></a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535714" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">cabs blur yellow/gypsy<br>in angular winter light<br>now dazzle before Spring<br>when raises dead bulbs to jonquils<br>potted pretty in windows, on stoops<br>and, wild, strayed in parks</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535714" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">do not, O, pass us by or over<br>for all our patient harping</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535714" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">come morrows under willows yet<br>we shall hang up our loves again</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535714" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">get back to work<br>honest scrub and<br>clean beside 2nd avenue<br>stand recalling willows<br>never seen</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=535714" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">and grieve still an old yet present<br>eviction in the cities of men</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Warren+Falcon">Warren Falcon</a></strong></div>

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