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"hillel" poems
like a good poet, I whine and whinny: the muses are unreliable, get too much paid vacation, unlimited unpaid, and pretend their cells are out of range, even when they are in bed with you and you’re near desperate to cop a feel of inspiration my problem is a variation on the theme. Everyday I jot down too many possibilities, a handful of words added to the list of pound bound childless titles, sad faced orphans, dogs and cats, squeaking “pick me, pick me,” our reply a casual “you on the list” rather than admit they are titled, but bodiless until cupid smashes a cupcake in my face and the bell rings there they stand - at a friendless crossroads - direction home, path unknown, awaiting a poet tour guide to complete them if this sounds a bit like a bad achy breaky country song, then you and I, on the same side of where I could be headed cause at the friendless crossroads, always unsure, left foot first?  that first line, first step, could be a false messiah, or a free-at-last, a free-at-last emancipation but there are no sidelines in a forest there no sidelines in a poet’s mind; there are the minefields of mindfulness that can explore explode and explain why it is tempting to believe that every gifted one deserves a break today but you cannot be broken or break off from the community “Hillel said: Do not separate yourself from the community; and do not trust in yourself until the day of your death. Do not judge your fellow until you are in his place. Do not say something that cannot be understood but will be understood in the end. Say not: When I have time I will study because you may never have the time” my friend, substitute writing poetry for study, for study is for us the analysis of everything, that is, everything we say, see and know the need to communicate so those who abide in the life of good words will not suffer an abdication (yours) do not think there are friendless crossroads, there are only crossroads that the eye cannot yet see a fellow sojourner coming toward him, bearing an oversized load of the inside insight of responsibility that demands sharing that is why we call our meetings at a crossroads, a cross
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Feb 4, 2018
Feb 4, 2018 at 10:21 AM UTC
“standing at a friendless crossroads”
like a good poet, I whine and whinny: the muses are unreliable, get too much paid vacation, unlimited unpaid, and pretend their cells are out of range, even when they are in bed with you and you’re near desperate to cop a feel of inspiration my problem is a variation on the theme. Everyday I jot down too many possibilities, a handful of words added to the list of pound bound childless titles, sad faced orphans, dogs and cats, squeaking “pick me, pick me,” our reply a casual “you on the list” rather than admit they are titled, but bodiless until cupid smashes a cupcake in my face and the bell rings there they stand - at a friendless crossroads - direction home, path unknown, awaiting a poet tour guide to complete them if this sounds a bit like a bad achy breaky country song, then you and I, on the same side of where I could be headed cause at the friendless crossroads, always unsure, left foot first?  that first line, first step, could be a false messiah, or a free-at-last, a free-at-last emancipation but there are no sidelines in a forest there no sidelines in a poet’s mind; there are the minefields of mindfulness that can explore explode and explain why it is tempting to believe that every gifted one deserves a break today but you cannot be broken or break off from the community “Hillel said: Do not separate yourself from the community; and do not trust in yourself until the day of your death. Do not judge your fellow until you are in his place. Do not say something that cannot be understood but will be understood in the end. Say not: When I have time I will study because you may never have the time” my friend, substitute writing poetry for study, for study is for us the analysis of everything, that is, everything we say, see and know the need to communicate so those who abide in the life of good words will not suffer an abdication (yours) do not think there are friendless crossroads, there are only crossroads that the eye cannot yet see a fellow sojourner coming toward him, bearing an oversized load of the inside insight of responsibility that demands sharing that is why we call our meetings at a crossroads, a cross
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34
There are more poems inside me, but I intuit it is longer fair to impose on you by sharing more.  The deep seeded infection of my spirit waxes and wanes, and there is no antidote, and unlike the virus itself, there never will be, a future cure, an inexpensive replacement cost for the spirit spent, the time and futures spirited away. Perhaps you recall I was one mile away from Ground Zero on September 11th.  Rarely do I walk there. The coronavirus poetry inserts itself unaided, never asking permission, a like minded, but a contra-cousin to the coronavirus. I live in New York City, the epicenter where now, close to 800 die daily. Normally, about 25 bodies a week are interred on Hart island, mostly for people whose families can't afford a funeral, or who go unclaimed by relatives.  In recent days, though, burial operations have increased from one day a week to five days a week, with around 24 burials each day.^^ Each dies with no last words, no Kaddish recited, Last Rites, too late, no Ṣalāt al-Janāzah or Om Namo Narayanaya.  Each one, a numbered pine coffin, and each one will have at the very least, a poem of their own, so help me god. Buried side by side in large trench, room plenty for new arrivals, I hear the banging, protesting, resisting, this is not the way, I was promised, my ears left pounding!  Hillel, the great scholar in this dream, reminds that “the time is short, and the work is great.”           He paraphrases, though, “the bodies many, the poems too few.” There ain’t no anonymity in heaven, but I’ll reconfirm that with you later.
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Apr 12, 2020
Apr 12, 2020 at 10:48 AM UTC
Pandemic Poems: Unclaimed bodies, There’s ain’t no anonymity in heaven.
There are more poems inside me, but I intuit it is longer fair to impose on you by sharing more.  The deep seeded infection of my spirit waxes and wanes, and there is no antidote, and unlike the virus itself, there never will be, a future cure, an inexpensive replacement cost for the spirit spent, the time and futures spirited away. Perhaps you recall I was one mile away from Ground Zero on September 11th.  Rarely do I walk there. The coronavirus poetry inserts itself unaided, never asking permission, a like minded, but a contra-cousin to the coronavirus. I live in New York City, the epicenter where now, close to 800 die daily. Normally, about 25 bodies a week are interred on Hart island, mostly for people whose families can't afford a funeral, or who go unclaimed by relatives.  In recent days, though, burial operations have increased from one day a week to five days a week, with around 24 burials each day.^^ Each dies with no last words, no Kaddish recited, Last Rites, too late, no Ṣalāt al-Janāzah or Om Namo Narayanaya.  Each one, a numbered pine coffin, and each one will have at the very least, a poem of their own, so help me god. Buried side by side in large trench, room plenty for new arrivals, I hear the banging, protesting, resisting, this is not the way, I was promised, my ears left pounding!  Hillel, the great scholar in this dream, reminds that “the time is short, and the work is great.”           He paraphrases, though, “the bodies many, the poems too few.” There ain’t no anonymity in heaven, but I’ll reconfirm that with you later.
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10
~an artwork beneath our feet, yet invisible to our eyes, constantly changing ,interlocking interlinking~ this poem has asked for composition everytime, I walk upon and past the sculputure beneath my feet on the Esplanade by The River (Diatom Lace on the East River - Stacy Levy www.stacylevy.com › projects › diatom-lace-on-the-east-river)  (1) but as I daily hurry past (for years) and over this pattern form lifted from the river's flowing, a daily delaying, for the words good enough to honor it, the invisible floating floral tentacles, attaching each water molecule to the next, do not arise of sufficient quality of wordsmithy, the Whitman words do not float up from the waters rushing past, and come to rest in my multi-tasking poetry conceptuals many months, even years, have gone by and after every water walk, the sculpture stabs me guilty, of procastination, and an unwillingness to tackle it, like the other tough stuff that haunts me so this morning, when I drown in the file laughingly called 100 & One Drafts a J'accuse (1) finger stabs my eyes and repeats the caveat of the sage Hillel the Elder: (1) If not now, when? and even as I sit and compose, the words refuse to surrender unto me for easy transcription and the chest tight with guilt, from all the promises I've made and remain unkempt & unkept, that stunt and stun my spirit, with inconsolable sadness So I distract myself, check the sleeping woman< take my morning meds,< reheat my "The Gamblers Mug" (Cezanne)(1) of morning coffee,< and alas, at last, once more surrender to my worst, and issue an invitation to >you< come visit me, come walk with me, perhaps together, a greater good will emerge, and we will feed each others tongues with syllables and sounds, that will trigger, go figure! a suitable poem worthy of a great art work, the lace of diatoms in the water, that our eyes cannot see, but our hearts can feel and with better words, be so honored, *by a poem truly worthy of this* miraculous conception
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Mar 29, 2025
Mar 29, 2025 at 8:31 AM UTC
An Excusal: “Diatom Lace on the East River“
~an artwork beneath our feet, yet invisible to our eyes, constantly changing ,interlocking interlinking~ this poem has asked for composition everytime, I walk upon and past the sculputure beneath my feet on the Esplanade by The River (Diatom Lace on the East River - Stacy Levy www.stacylevy.com › projects › diatom-lace-on-the-east-river)  (1) but as I daily hurry past (for years) and over this pattern form lifted from the river's flowing, a daily delaying, for the words good enough to honor it, the invisible floating floral tentacles, attaching each water molecule to the next, do not arise of sufficient quality of wordsmithy, the Whitman words do not float up from the waters rushing past, and come to rest in my multi-tasking poetry conceptuals many months, even years, have gone by and after every water walk, the sculpture stabs me guilty, of procastination, and an unwillingness to tackle it, like the other tough stuff that haunts me so this morning, when I drown in the file laughingly called 100 & One Drafts a J'accuse (1) finger stabs my eyes and repeats the caveat of the sage Hillel the Elder: (1) If not now, when? and even as I sit and compose, the words refuse to surrender unto me for easy transcription and the chest tight with guilt, from all the promises I've made and remain unkempt & unkept, that stunt and stun my spirit, with inconsolable sadness So I distract myself, check the sleeping woman< take my morning meds,< reheat my "The Gamblers Mug" (Cezanne)(1) of morning coffee,< and alas, at last, once more surrender to my worst, and issue an invitation to >you< come visit me, come walk with me, perhaps together, a greater good will emerge, and we will feed each others tongues with syllables and sounds, that will trigger, go figure! a suitable poem worthy of a great art work, the lace of diatoms in the water, that our eyes cannot see, but our hearts can feel and with better words, be so honored, *by a poem truly worthy of this* miraculous conception
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62
Qboy dancing with Lee-tal’s cousins late into the Tel Aviv night, driving back from the ceremony to Jerusalem The jazz club in Tokyo after the ceremony, gratefully talking with Rieko and Takahiro thrilled to soon see Kyoto Yes, Rabbi Hillel, every bride is beautiful.
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Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 12:15 AM UTC
every bride