June 4-10, 2007: Chaim Rosenblum and Joseph Reich

week of June 4-10, 2007

Chaim Rosenblum and Joseph Reich



BECOME A POET OF THE WEEK
click here for submission guidelines

Chaim Rosenblum
crosen1966@yahoo.com

Bio (auto)

Chaim’s poems have appeared in Mimaamakim, Lotus Blooms, Mocha Memories, Poetry Super Highway, SaucyVox, Skyline Publications, and The Poetry Victim Chaim is also the Editor of Good News, a monthly newsletter of Jewish learning, stories, and interviews for the members of Moshav Mevo Modiim, a community started by Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach in Israel The Moshav is nestled in the Ben Shemen forest, where he lives with his wife and seven children Chaim’s first online chapbook, “Ordinary Life”, is available for free.

The following work is Copyright © 2007, and owned by Chaim Rosenblum and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

Poetry Affair

Your point of origin
Is New York City, mine is Tel Aviv Each poem is worth 25 air miles If we‚d each write two poems a week,
I’d be in Dublin in 350 days, 
waiting for your arrival,
in only 22 weeks We’d talk a hotel room Each poem removes
a single garment For me
Hush Puppy shoes and Gucci socks, 
Fox dress long sleeve button down shirt
and Lee Strauss jeans, 
Fruit of the Loom undershirt
and jockey shorts I’d be naked, wrapped in a blanket You’d write your poems We’d be two naked people,
wrapped in separate blankets I’d respectfully request
you put yours down and join me No poem necessary.


Single Beds

Our berths
drift side by side
in the river
that’s our bedroom
pushed along
by the rotation of blades
of the ceiling fan
Sometimes you join me
Sometimes I join you
Space restrictions
always encourages the visitor
to leap overboard
and return alone
to their single bed
We’ve talked about
docking at a leisure hotel
that has rooms
with queen-sized mattresses
I am in favor of nighttime flotsam
large enough for an air flow
that does not prevent
your foot from finding mine, 
my hand on your breast, 
our rear-ends rubbing together, 
after turning to our sides, 
as a pleasant reminder
that we are a couple.


Joseph Reich
JReich9666@aol.com

Bio (auto)

Joseph Reich: is a children’s therapist who works in the state of Massachusetts; A displaced New Yorker who sincerely does miss dis-place, most of all the Thai Food, the Bagels, and the Smoothies on Houston Street .Has a wife and child and when we all get a little older desire to show them around Harlem, The Upper West Side, The Lower East Side, and burroughs of birth and childhood .Joseph has had works which have appeared in such literary journals as, “Poesy,” “Dispatch,” “Falling Star,” “And Then,” “Graffiti Rag,” “Main Street Rag,” “Bouillabaisse,” “Decanto,” “Rogue’s Scholar” and “Poetry Motel “

The following work is Copyright © 2007, and owned by Joseph Reich and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.

The Supper Poems

I
The Demographics Of The American Family

i know a lot of families
a lot of couples
who watch tv
while eating
supper

i don’t know
why don’t
they just
look into
fishbowls?

II
Town-Statistics

this year in the subdivision there were 2 divorces,
1 alcoholic neighbor
who tried to make
the moves on his
best friend’s wife,
1 suicide attempt, 
1 head of the association
impeached based on some
collective paranoia, excommun-
icated from the neighborhood,
and 1 husband who just simply
took off on his motorcycle
out to phoenix, arizona .


III
For William Carlos Williams

when you
finally discover
your old faded baseball glove

simply
resembles a toad
sitting on the side of the road

IV
Stanzas Of Summer

pink motorcycles glimmer on the seashore
like soft-shell crabs with mustard one would want to devour

the painters come out after a full day on the job

you dream of grilled corn and kielbalsa

of her home-made meatballs
and sweet wilderness
creeping up your nose

after a full day’s work you head home with a whole chicken
the whole pretty softball team in ponies duck in with grins

V
Television

tries to placate you with mundane metaphors
as the children of the corn come out from
behind the radio tower creeping through
the industrial brush on an overcast day
and it all comes down on the aluminum
siding of a rambling ranch when the man in
a beard on a tractor returns home in drizzle

VI
For Some God-Forsaken Reason

in watching old reruns
of battlestar galactica
you swear this old dude
looking a lot like
lorne greene

sternly earnestly
approaches the
enemy and says
“i have prepared
your underwear”

VII
For Convenience Sake

you sometimes just
wish to slit your wrists
and let it all drip
into a window box
of geraniums as it
will be camouflaged
to welcome the hum-
mingbirds and crows

you’ll look
forward
to ghosts
who’ll put
everything
in perspective

your wife simply sitting
there with the babysitter
in their lawnchairs gabbing
away without a care looking
a little like nixon and kissinger

(later on she’ll inform you
that catherine told her
they almost got busted on
horseneck beach for starting
a bonfire and there were police
and booze and jumped the fence)

sun coming down
on the iridescent
dead-end of
photosynthesis

VIII
The Himalayan Birches

you smell her
shake & bake
& potato latkas
streaming up
the staircase

life can’t be
as bad as
you think

shadows
& breeze
will overtake
the evening

IX
A Summer Poem

“erica while you got your sandals on
can you turn off the water outside?”

“uh-huuh “

“thank you so much!”

you hear the nozzle turn

and the birds squeak

X
The Unmissing

after spending a full day
with your boy on the beach
you can’t get out of the back
of your head blissfully the song–

do you know the muffin man?
the muffin man? the muffin man?


XI
Song From The Prairie

where never is heard
a discouraging word

XII
Erica

all her soaps & shampoos & rinses & conditioners
all her pretty pink panties with little bow laces
all her mantras she muttered at the end of the day in the shower
all her sniffles & sobs that went down the drain that followed
all her farewell kiss final drip from a dramatic draining faucet
all that sorrowful shit you couldn’t get off your face even if you wanted
all those mug shots from mad years of real-life run-down run-away experiences
all those strangers who literally tried to threaten to sick their dogs 
their big brothers their guns their diseases as you never once
backed down to become something of this fictional fugitive
(sometimes even questioning why you were alive and how you made it
embracing the mad dogs of brooklyn on the waterfront docks of winter
who you shared your fried chicken bones with and became your best
friends after working the graveyard shift hustling a cab in manhattan
all the sadness & suffering & kindness & wisdom
that silently seeped from shut sockets
from man’s cruel character & contradictions)
all the seasons all the shadows all the promises all the betrayals
all those magnificent purple pines that rise from dusk to night
from dark into light from your imagination to the netherworld
all faith & forgiveness all the times she never gave up
on you as she’s simply the greatest girl

XIII
The Apothecary

baby please get
ice cream & wine!

through the blinds
you spot firelight

X!V.

Aperative

sun falls
like a slice
of lemon-meringue pie

XV
The Supper Poem

you savor the last bits
of paprika and sour cream
clinging to your palate and bid her goodnight.

Subscribe to our weekly Newsletter: