Faith
|
He grabbed me by the throat and shook We were left turning He on his poetic cloud I with my bony feet stretched out We kicked each other below us the grass shook in the breeze of crows hunting low for spoilage Trees their tops at eye level burst with eyeless blossoms their branches licked by fire I'd met him on the sidelines of a fight It was dark and He came out of nowhere rooted for neither side impartially lifted the loser to his knees We hung in a standoff Our arms in chokeholds around each other but since He was omnipotent and I was out of shape it was natural that He should let go It was not the impossible force of that hand like a car the moment before you are hit by it but after the hand was gone and I was still dangling out of nothing and into nothing |
David Goldstein lives in New York City.
Image: James Turrell
More Poetry and Spirit:
March, 2004
February, 2004
December, 2003
November, 2003
September, 2003
August, 2003
May, 2003
October, 2003
October, 2003
September, 2003
March, 2003
Persistence of Vision
Dan Friedman
Then
Avi Levy
Reading Toqueville in An Election Year
Michael Shurkin
Dead Sea
Debra Bruno
Life During Wartime
Jay Michaelson
Faith
David Goldstein
Archive
Our 450 Back Pages
Saddies
David Stromberg
Zeek in Print
New Spring 2004 issue now on sale!
About Zeek
News & Events
Contact Us
Tech Support
Links
From previous issues:
When I Met Humility, I Saw Letters
Abraham Mezrich
Anything You Want to Be
Ben Cohen