Poet

by Neeli Cherkovski

1

When you talk I listen
And when the world spins I drop
To my knees When the spirit sings
I grow weary
Though not weary enough

When you talk of yourself
I am quiet the tree behind you pauses
And imaginary birds come out of hiding
so you may sound
Evermore sure of yourself

When the world knocks I close my ears
Because it seems the proper thing to
Thousands of concerts I did not atten
Innumerable celebrities II abandoned
One afternoon at the Dead Sea

You talk of money
And I fight to stay alive my physicians
Are like statues on the Grand Concourse

2

I am a language poet a rude awkeming
a confessional poet and a latter– day Beat

I wanted to be a Russian writer
but they sent me
Overseas

American Native is what I am
Born on the first of July
Not as black as ice
But a dreamer
Of leaves
And stone