by Harris Schiff

I don’t know
why divineness
puts you here
any more than I
know why it puts
me here
but I do know
I am going to kill you
and send you on your
Way
That’s how much
I fear you

by Harris Schiff

Stripping away everything
all the familiar
neighborhood
language
culture

idioms     slang

byways

routines
friends
family
places
vegetation
chemical mix of
atmosphere
taste of the water
the unnoticed things
missed
nonetheless

What’s left ?
your joy ?
accomplishment ?
pain ?
loss ?

hunger ?
fear ?
courage ?
spirit ?

by Ron Kolm

In 1992 Jerry Brown,
The liberal ex-governor of California,
Ran against Bill Clinton
In the race to become
The Democratic party’s nominee
For President of the United States.
He entered the New York primary
And came to New York City to campaign.
While he was here he shopped
In Coliseum Bookstore on 57^th Street}
Surrounded by a phalanx
Of Secret Service agents.
When he approached the cash register
With a pile of books
I leaned over from my post
At the bag check counter
To see what he was buying.
At the top of the stack was a copy
Of Adolf Hitler’s Mein Kampf  !
I was shocked.  I wondered
If he actually thought Hitler’s book
Might contain some secrets
That would help him win the election.

by Valery Oisteanu

Herds of trees stumble in the distance
Wailing in a low undertone
Some falling toward the sky
Burning with the speed of an invasion
How hard they try to become birds
A flock of trees nearing a death experience
Flying through their immortality horizon
Nothing left behind but timelessness
The sky undresses for the sunrise
As laughter disappears beneath frozen waterfalls
This is the startling winter landscape of WWIII
Shark’s smiles tattooed onto toys of war
Thousands of blacksmiths forging new death tools
Others assembling coffins with no names
For the unmarked crosses of the young
Dressed in white, little green men
Sad prisoners of vodka and greed
Like termites swarming European plains
Fashioned into coal-dust body bags
Screams of scars and excrements cover the snow
Oh mother of death, they do not have to perish
Lips of the icy corpse will never drink the wine
This blood-drenched earth was once a forest
In the depth of winter there is an invincible summer