Friday, January 20, 2017

A Toast for Inauguration Day 2017

From the poems of Anna Akhmatova,

I drink to our demolished house,
To all this wickedness,


The coarse, brutal world, the fact
That God has not saved us.

      (1934, Trans. by D.M. Thomas)

Friday, January 13, 2017


The worst of all kinds
Of pain, I find
Is hope
That comes along and gives
Visions of happiness
That are not mine
Please God
Withhold it from me,
If you are there,
Give me instead
A taste of despair
So that sometimes,
Even often,
It might be that
That is disappointed

Wednesday, January 4, 2017


My most recent contribution to the church newsletter:
December, 2016  
Recently, my thoughts have turned to an old movie– a Czech historical drama from 1967 called Marketa Lazarová. Set in a bleak and uninviting version of the Middle Ages, in which small clans war perpetually with one another, it is a meditation, among other things, on the brutality of un-restrained power in a lawless world. In the film’s closing scene, an omniscient narrator foretells that two “strapping boys” would be born to the heroine but that, “alas... cruelty and love [...] would contend for mastery of their souls.”

Sunday, January 1, 2017

Poems y Poemas

Phone on Vibrate

Oh God! That sound – not again, have mercy!
Like a hornet, like a drill, I hear it, curse me!
Just ignore it, says a voice – devilish, winking
But I know by now I cannot do whatever
it is thinking
And already my shoulders droop, already
I wilt
For even once it’s gone, comes the new drone–
Of guilt!