Joseph Mills: The Husband

He comes every day to eat lunch and sit
with her in the sun room. Sometimes he reads
letters out loud from their children or friends;
sometimes he reads the paper as she sleeps.
One day the staff makes her favorite cake
to celebrate their anniversary,
and he tells how, to buy her ring, he worked
months of overtime at the factory,
so she thought he was seeing someone else.
"As if I would look at other women
when I have Pearl," he says, shaking his head.
She begins to cry and tells him, "You're sweet,
but I miss my husband." He pats her hand.
"I know," he says, "It's all right. Try some cake."

Hafiz: We Have Not Come To Take Prisoners

We have not come here to take prisoners,
But to surrender ever more deeply
To freedom and joy.

We have not come into this exquisite world
To hold ourselves hostage from love.

Run my dear,
From anything
That may not strengthen
Your precious budding wings.

Run like hell my dear,
From anyone likely
To put a sharp knife
Into the sacred, tender vision
Of your beautiful heart.

We have a duty to befriend
Those aspects of obedience
That stand outside of our house
And shout to our reason
“O please, O please,
Come out and play.”

For we have not come here to take prisoners
Or to confine our wondrous spirits,

But to experience ever and ever more deeply
Our divine courage, freedom and
Light!

Simonyi Imre: Eszembe jutott

1
Most az jutott eszembe
hogy a télen
még mondani akartam valamit.
Talán csak azt
hogy ne félj
egy napon
meglásd
mégiscsak kitavaszodik.
S még az jutott eszembe most szívem
hogy egymásnak mi tán sosem hazudtunk
csupán egyikünk sem tudott soha
bár egyetlenegy olyan igazságot
ami az lett volna a másiknak is.

2
Most pedig az jutott eszembe drágám
hogy
egy verset készültem írni néked
— mióta már! —
de valamiképp mindíg elmaradt.
Igen verset készültem írni arról hogy
— bármi történt is —
tudod a végén
tudod a dolgok végén
egy napon
(majd ott a fontoskodó gyászmenetben)
mégis csupán ketten leszünk
akik pontosan fogjuk tudni
hogy ki is hogy tulajdonképp ki is volt a másik?

3
S még az:
ha van úgy hogy nem te vagy az eszembe
olyankor én már semmire sem gondolok.

Rudyard Kipling: The Thousandth Man

One man in a thousand, Solomon says.
Will stick more close than a brother.
And it’s worth while seeking him half your days
If you find him before the other.

Nine hundred and ninety-nine depend
On what the world sees in you,
But the Thousandth Man will stand your friend
With the whole round world agin you.

‘Tis neither promise nor prayer nor show
Will settle the finding for ‘ee.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine of ‘em go
By your looks, or your acts, or your glory.

But if he finds you and you find him,
The rest of the world don’t matter;
For the Thousandth Man will sink or swim
With you in any water.

You can use his purse with no more talk
Than he uses yours for his spendings,
And laugh and meet in your daily walk
As though there had been no lendings.

Nine hundred and ninety-nine of ‘em call
For silver and gold in their dealings;
But the Thousandth Man he’s worth ‘em all
Because you can show him your feelings.

His wrong’s your wrong, and his right’s your right,
In season or out of season.
Stand up and back it in all men’s sight
With that for your only reason!

Nine hundred and ninety-nine can’t bide
The shame or mocking or laughter,
But the Thousandth Man will stand by your side
To the gallows-foot - and after!

Lauren Wheeler: Sideshow

For a nickel, you can take a picture of me
standing just so in front of a wooden board
with a heart painted on it.

For a dime, you can take a picture with me,
you squatting behind and peeking through
like I’m one of those cardboard cut-outs
of an “Indian Chief” or a unicorn or some other
supposedly mythical creature.

When you offer a quarter, we move to the tent,
dim-lit and dusty, where I sit on the low
quilt-covered bed and pat the space beside me.
You are nervous. “Will it hurt? I mean, will it hurt you?”
I shake my head. “It never hurts. Not anymore.”
And then I take your hand and guide it up towards
the hole in my chest. You tremble for a second
as you reach through me, wiggle your fingers
around behind my back, disbelieving.

“Where is your heart?” you ask.
“How do you live without your heart?”
I don’t know how to answer, so I say,
“It’s amazing the things you can learn to live without.”

Faludy György: Ha rád gondolok ...

Ha rád gondolok, vagy szám ki is mondja
neved; ha nézem homlokod, kezed;
ha árnyékodat meglátom - naponta
hússzor vagy százszor is, megremegek

a gyönyörtől, vagy már tizenhat éve,
s ehhez, itt kinn, a sok- sok jó barát
ölelése, az olvasók hűsége,
s hazulról, vízen, szögesdróton át

az ifjúság szerelme - érdemetlen
vagyok minderre; könny gyűlik szememben,
köhögök, nyelek, hogy elfojtsam; ennyi

boldogságot e földön senki se
igényelhet  a léttől -  de a "lenni"
szó minden  nyelven rendhagyó ige.

Nikki Giovanni: Tourism

I am always a tourist

No matter where
I am

At home
Or abroad

An American
   in Aruba
A Black
   in Oxford
A woman
   in Baghdad
Alone
   cruising
The Panama Canal

Cold in Alaska
Comfortable only
   when the plane
Lands

Never sorry
Yet never safe

In your arms
or out

Clay Carpenter: Detour

surely that threadbare tire finally will blow if only
because you’re tardy getting to your daughter’s school.
A detour to the garage will get you a new tire
installed in less than an hour for $65 however

what if you pulled into this tiny drive, walled in by this
black rubber mountain, in shaky hand its painted sign:
Reyes Tires. This part of town is safe in daylight, right?

he’s small and Spanish-speaking but with an accent
not South Texas. His smile says you’re not from this
neighborhood, are you? Plucks a tire from the mountain, worn
but not threadbare and rolls it to you: "This is good one."

fifteen dollars, he says, fifteen minutes. Whirs lug nuts off,
kicks the tire to jar it from the wheel, and in ten is done

but who knows who’s more embarrassed when he says
"No credit cards." Who knows if he believes you when
you promise to return with cash, and quickly he nods yes

when you lay the bills in the small man’s hand,
his smile says he lost a bet with himself. "Thank
you," you say, leaning in, making eye contact.
"Any time."

Erdős Virág: Ezt is elviszem magammal

viszem a régen
          kihízott nacim
viszem a kelet-német
          származású macim
ezernyi véglet
          közül a köztest
viszem a Csokonai
          Vitéz Mihály Összest
ott lesz az ágyam
          ahova fekszem
elviszem alvókának
          egy-két régi ex-em
viszem a barnát
          viszem a szőkét
viszem a felhalmozott
          kapcsolati tőkét

viszem a tutit
          viszem a gagyit
viszem az otthonkában
          utcára tett nagyit
megannyi némán
          átbliccelt évet
elviszem magammal a
          szentendrei HÉV-et
viszem a Marcsit
          viszem a Karcsit
elviszem Kenesétől
          Keszthelyig a Balcsit
kicsit a nyarat 
        kicsit a telet
viszem a mindörökké
        Moszkva-Moszkva teret

apuka titkát
          anyuka aranyát
elviszem magammal a
        Bácskát meg a Baranyát
viszem a bölcsit
          viszem a temetőt
viszem a csokoládé-
          barna bőrű szeretőm
viszek egy búval
          bevetett földet
viszem a pirosat a
          fehéret a zöldet
elviszem ezt is
          elviszem azt is
viszem a jófiút de
          elviszem a faszt is

viszem a bankot
          viszem a pálmát
elviszem minden igaz
          magyar ember álmát
viszek egy csontig
          lelakott testet
viszont az nem kérdés hogy
          Buda helyett: Pestet
viszek egy szívet
          viszek egy májat
viszek egy kívül-belül
          lakhatatlan tájat
naná hogy úgy van
          ahogy azt sejted:
viszek egy lassú burján-
          zásnak indul sejtet

viszek egy csúnyán
          beszopott mesét
viszem a legesleges-
          legutolsó esélyt
ki tudja lesz-e
          búcsúzni időm
viszem a Duna-parton
          levetetett cipőm
mit bánom úgyis
          elviszem lazán
elviszem gond nélkül a
          hátamon a hazám
aki ma büntet
          az holnap lövet
viszek egy mindig vissza-
                visszahulló
                követ

Barbara Crooker: Star of Wonder, Star of Light

It’s Christmas, the year before the accident, when the earth
still seemed fixed. My husband and children are hanging
lights on the big pine tree, the one that Becky
brought home as a seedling in first grade wrapped in a damp
paper towel. I am cooking dinner while they struggle
with the wires that somehow knot themselves up in the box.
Shadows gather behind the hills. The tree turns dark green,
then black. The tangled string unravels, and they pass it
around, loop over loop, while I watch from the steamy window:
husband, son, and daughter in a circle around the tree,
their arms full of stars.

Anna Swir: Before Dawn

You must line up
for twenty pounds of coal
before dawn.

Mother stands in icy cold, stomping,
the holes in her wet shoes stuffed
with paper.

Mother is glad
that I sleep in a warm bed.

Karinthy Frigyes: A halottas kocsi

Egy fekete kocsi ment a Köruton,
Május volt, mert az minden évben van,
A fák tehát lomboztak és rügyeztek
És drága nők csacsogtak boldogan
Nyitott kocsik kacéran ringatóztak
Ki a ligetbe, merre lát a szem,
Csak a fekete kocsi ment közöttük
Becsukva, szépen engedelmesen.
A kocsiban, hol kellemes homály volt,
Feküdt három fehér ur meztelen,
A hangulat kissé fagyos közöttük,
A modoruk se könnyed, fesztelen,
A lábukra egy cédulát kötöttek,
A cédulán rendőri látlelet,
Friss jégből van a derékalj mögöttük
Jégből a paplan a fejük felett.
És szólt az egyik mozdulatlan arccal,
Mig fején a jég halkan szörcsögött:
Önt ugyebár Mohácsnál dobta partra?
És szólt a másik: mint egy hörcsögöt,
És szólt az egyik: ön soká feküdt lenn,
És szólt a másik: négy napot bizony,
Én Óbudánál ugrottam be, és ön?
És szólt a másik: én a Lánchidon.
És szólt az egyik: az öné milyen volt?
És szólt a másik: barna és molett,
És szólt az egyik: az enyém is éppen
És szólt a másik: hát az meglehet.
És szólt az egyik: mondja, hogy nevezték?
És szólt a másik: Ringaráz Kata,
És szólt az egyik: hát ez óriási!
Hisz akkor ön a Csempe Pál tata.
Én azt hittem, önt szerette mégis
Azért ugrottam, mint egy kerge kos,
És szólt a másik: hát nem önt szerette?
Hisz én ön miatt voltam bánatos,
És szólt az egyik: hát nem önt szerette?
És szólt a másik: ó hát volt remény?
És szólt az egyik: hát kié lett akkor?
És megszólalt a harmadik: enyém.

Audre Lorde: Coping

It has rained for five days
running the world is
a round puddle
of sunless water
where small islands
are only beginning
to cope
a young boy
in my garden
is bailing out water
from his flower patch
when I ask him why
he tells me
young seeds that have not seen sun
forget
and drown easily.

Jesse Parent: To the Boys Who May One Day Date My Daughter’

To the boys who may one day date my daughter!
I have been waiting for you.
Since before her birth,
Since before my spark took hold and ignited the fire in her mother’s belly,
I have been training to kill you.
When you took your first steps I was preparing to make it so you never walked again,
When you played at war I was perfecting headshots,
You can’t catch up at this point.
And when you first meet my daughter and fall in love with the look she sends over her shoulder,
Her crescent-moon eyes framing her laughing smile, you
Are gonna wanna talk to her.
And when those hours pass by like sprinters during that first timeless conversation-
You will also know with a deep and impending sense of dread,
That you are going to have to talk to me
When you first come to my home, and see the bone carving over my threshold-
Try not to imagine your own femurs so expertly carved.
Pay no attention to my “ample crawl space”, my
“Room with a rubber mat and a drain”, be careful
To only approach me with love for my daughter,
See, I have been seeding her childhood with tap-root hugs
To weed out indifference and apathy,
There will be no Daddy Issues for your teenage talons to latch upon. If you
Break her heart; I will hear it snap with the ear I pressed against her mother’s belly-
The elbow I cradled her head in will send a message to my fist. My cheeks
Are attuned to her lips.
I will know if they tremble.

I have taught her that a man should never hit a woman-
Now her mother would like to add that you really shouldn’t ever hit anybody-
But I have taught her that a man should never hit a woman.
Consider my genes a mark of Cain;
You will suffer seven times whatever you do to her,
And she will not keep your secret:
You can’t make fire feel afraid.
I have been teaching her love all of her life,
And all that I ask is that you continue the lesson.
Love her.
Befriend her.
Protect her- be there when I can’t, and when my body gives up to the grave,
Let the grin that eternity carves into my face be a reflection of the peace that your love brings to her,
And we should get along just fine…

ADDENDUM:

To the girls who may one day date my daughter!...
My wife is a better shot than I am.

Káto Suszon: [Szállongó falevél….]

Szállongó falevél.
Lelassul az idő,
mikor a földhöz ér.
A harmatos kertben sétálunk ketten.

Belőle macska lett.
Én embernek születtem.

Dorianne Laux: For the Sake of Strangers

No matter what the grief, its weight,
we are obliged to carry it.
We rise and gather momentum, the dull strength
that pushes us through crowds.
And then the young boy gives me directions
so avidly. A woman holds the glass door open,
waits patiently for my empty body to pass through.
All day it continues, each kindness
reaching toward another - a stranger
singing to no one as I pass on the path, trees,
offering their blossoms, a retarded child
who lifts his almond eyes and smiles.
Somehow they always find me, seem even
to be waiting, determined to keep me
from myself, from the thing that calls to me
as it must have once called to them -
this temptation to step off the edge
and fall weightless, away from the world.

T. S. Eliot: The Naming Of Cats

The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn't just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there's the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey--
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter--
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that's particular,
A name that's peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum-
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there's still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover--
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name

Pilinszky János: Egy szenvedély margójára

A tengerpartot járó kisgyerek
mindig talál a kavicsok közt egyre,
mely mindöröktől fogva az övé,
és soha senki másé nem is lenne.

Az elveszíthetetlent markolássza!
Egész szíve a tenyerében lüktet,
oly egyetlen egy kezében a kő,
és vele ő is olyan egyedül lett.

Nem szabadul már soha többé tőle.
A víznek fordul, s messze elhajítja.
Hangot sem ad a néma szakítás,
egy egész tenger zúgja mégis vissza.

Lauren Zuniga: To the Oklahoma Lawmakers

To the Oklahoma law makers who will force all women to receive an ultrasound prior to an abortion.
Why don’t you print out the ultrasound pictures in pastel frames.
Make me take them home and hang them on my wall as a souvenir of the night that is branded like red coals to flesh on my memory.
The night when his hand pressed so hard against my shoulder blade I felt more intimacy with asphalt.
Why don’t ya knit the baby a sweater?
Make me take it out and smell it on the anniversary of this day for the rest of my life to remind me that I chose to be a murderer
instead of bringing a child into a world where we kill people in the name of freedom, but imprison people in the name of life.
You could pass laws for that too, you know?
It’s bad enough that I can still see his handprints on my thighs.
But now I can see your probing eyes scraping across my cervix, tattooing my womb with shame.
Why don’t you send me a card every Mother’s Day to remind me of how wretched I am? Sign it, ‘Your friends at the state capital making sure you know we actually do something all day with your tax dollars. “
Look, I know it can get boring, between the porker’s association breakfasts and the oil and gas industry lunch.
And I know you need something to do, between screwing up our election system and passing off your racism as an immigration bill.
But I need a little more from you than a piece of paper.
I mean, if you really want to show me that you believe in faith, family, and freedom, then why don’t you come along for the ride.
I could’ve used you that night.
After the football game.
Him finally showing me attention
Me grasping for acceptance
Tell me I’m special
So when he hands me the next drink, I don’t look to the bottom of it for approval.
Tell me to scream louder
So someone might find us
Wrap me in a blanket when he’s done
Take me home.
My body a tapped keg
My heart the grimey gym floor after the pep rally
Give me the words to say to my parents when I come out of the bathroom with a plus sign on the stick
And he won’t even talk to me
The school hallway is a canyon
Silence echoes in my skull
And I don’t even know what to do.
Tell me what to do.
Sit with me at the clinic
The ticker plucking away at my innocence
Give me the revelation
That the blip on the screen
Is actually a baby.
Take me home when I change my mind.
Take me to the doctor every month
Hold my hand in the delivery room
I will name him after you, if you will help me do my homework
When he’s crying in the next room.
Give me food stamps,
Pay my gas bills,
Put him in an afterschool program
Where he learns he can sell my pain pills
Have mercy on him when he goes to court
Give me strength when they sentence him
If you want to play God, Mr. and Mrs. Lawmakers,
If you want to write your Bible on my organs
Then you better be there
When I am down on my knees
pleading for relief
from your morality

Watch and listen here: To the Oklahome Lawmakers

Rodney Jones: Salvation Blues

Many people here expect
the dead are not really dead.
Therefore, they resolve to live
as though they were not alive:

So softly the minor thirds,
so tenderly the major sevenths,
white gospel the elderly virgins
keep treading like chastity

until Franz Liszt, ravager
and destroyer of pianos,
critiques with a thunderstorm:

Remind us there is something
to be dead about. Play like
you are alive, even if it is not true.

Rékasy Ildikó: Utcai találkozás

Botját koppantva jön felém - már késő elkerülni.
Igaz, nem is szükséges, a minap sem ismert meg.
Szegény, ő az egyik utolsó, akinek
még kezét csókolommal köszönök.
Hosszan faggatott kilétem felől, de csak a fejét rázta,
mégis rögtön a bizalmába fogadott.
Mérgezik őt - tudtam meg - évek óta,
még a tulajdon menye is,
s egyetértést sürgetve hunyorogtak
rám a szemek a ráncos, kicsi arcból.
És vádolta a fiát, unokáit,
szomszédait, az orvosát:
mind, akik gondját viselik, segítik.
Majd egyszerre csak elérzékenyült,
s szorongatni kezdte a kezemet.
Örült az idegennek,
akinek nincs kiszolgáltatva.

Denver Butson: Never Mind

      that guests no longer come unannounced
      or that the photo album contains pictures
of much younger people than we remember being

     never mind that swallows etch Sanskrit
              on the wrinkled sky

                 it's November
     and the present is emptying its wine
                into our glasses

     never mind that we're not touching now

because our shadows are holding hands
         in the dark behind our backs

Anna Swir: An Artist Moves

At dawn
we leave on tiptoe.

Father carries the easel
and three paintings, mother
a chest and the eiderdown
inherited from grandmother, I myself
a pot and a teakettle.

We load it all on a cart, quickly,
so the janitor does not see.
My father
is pulling the cart, quickly,
my mother pushes at the rear, quickly,
I push also, quickly, quickly, quickly,
so that the janitor does not see.

We owe
a half-year's rent.

Kemény Lili: Óda az Éjszakához

Na jól van, Éjszaka, megvoltál
te is, megveregetem a vállad.
Nincs mit a szemedre vetnem.
Vittél, hurcoltál veszélyes
helyekre, mutattál őrülteket,
itattál, bevontál ragyogással.
Kivilágítottad, fölnagyítottad
körülöttem a várost. Nézettél
velem hirtelen jelképessé
váló tájakat, ez ajándék volt,
néha ilyenkor lényegtelen férfiakat
állítottál mellém, ez pedig vicc.
Kinyitottál tiltott ajtókat,
körbeszaglásztattál valami
nyálkás kis aljasságot a sötétben,
és hagytad, hogy beköltözzön.
De most, sajnos, nappalodik.
Neked nincs már sok hátra,
én még élhetek pár évtizedet.
És tisztán fogok átérni
a túloldalra, elárullak, Éjszaka,
az emlékedet is megtagadom.
A kis aljasság évek múlva,
már mint kifejlett Bűn, a
néma nyomomba szegődik, néha
megpaskolom a busa nagy fejét.
Velem marad, napi háromszor
megsétáltatom, és minden reggel
kap majd enni is.

Nikki Giovanni: Friends in love

Times change
Jobs change
Friends remain
Forever

We age
We sage
Friends laugh
Together

We sigh
We cry
Friends in love
Completely

Hands and hearts
Tied up as one
In this package
Neatly

Judith Viorst: A thoroughly modern sixty

I'm slogging along down the information highway.
I'd rather read Yeats than my computer screen,
But I'm told that I cannot survive the twenty-first century
Unless I can manage to master this machine,
Which, I have also been told, does not really hate me,
In spite of the many hostile things it does.
I aspire to being a thoroughly modern sixty,
But sometimes I don't like what is as much as what was.

I'm listnening to a recorded menu of options
And suddenly my brain is turning to mush.
Do I want my prescription refilled or departures to Denver?
And when I decide this, which buttons do I push?
And why can't the calls I'm making simply be answered
By living breathing human women and men?
I aspire to being a thoroughly modern sixty,
But sometimes I don't like right now as much as back then.

I've just returned from a restful ten-day vacation.
One hour later I'm needing ten days more,
What wiht voice mail and E-mail and faxes demanding attention,
Plus all those FedExes delivered to my door.
Next year, I've been told, I should travel with a cell phone,
So everyone can reach me faster than fast.
I aspire to being a thoroughly modern sixty,
But sometimes I don't like the present as much as the past.

In order to be a thoroughly modern sixty
I'll learn to embrace the new technology
By conversing with virtual rather than actual people
And recording pills by pressing button three.
I'll never leave home without my modem and pager,
Remaining in touch with all who so desire.
I aspire to being a thoroughly modern sixty,
But sometimes I dont like the sixty to which I aspire.

Simon Márton: Fehér zaj

A telefon csörgésére ébredek, sokáig
keresem felülve az ágyban. Hol vagyok
- ezt majdnem tőled is megkérdem,
amikor felveszem, és megismerem
a hangod. Egyébként alig értem,
mit mondasz, halk és ócska ez a telefon
(annak idején erről akartam megüzenni,
hogy szeretném, ha meghalnál
- nem volt rajta pénz). Elhallgatlak,
bármit is mondasz, a készülék miatt
szerelmes suttogásnak hallatszik,
ettől fölébredek. Azt hiszem,
csak csevegni próbálsz egyébként
- sok tét nélküli kedvesség, nekem
ez sose ment, én nem vagyok kedves
(csak néha blöffölök). Közben az ablak
felé nézek, kinn kánikula, itt benn
elég hűvös van. Egyszer majd azt írhatom
erről, nem igazán érdekelt, mit mondtál,
vagy hogy föl se ébredtem.
Bár tényleg kimerült vagyok mostanában,
nem tudok aludni, mióta nem hallom
a lélegzésed, csak tudom, hogy van.
Rendszeresen sétálok viszont hajnalig,
néha eszem, vagy nézem a neten
idegenek otthoni szexvideóit (ők teszik közzé)
- így unatkozom. A szerelem, mint a
környezetszennyezés. Lehet rá nem gondolni.
De azt hiszem, veled sosem leszek hűvös
(majd néha blöffölök). Ha letetted a telefont,
visszafekszem - világosban viszonylag jól alszom,
mert sötétedés után még sokáig szerettél.
És jöhetnek az üres, szereplők nélküli álmok - - -
addig viszont hallgatlak, ahogy suttogsz,
mint az őrláng.