Month: April 2013

  •  

     

     

     

    Wallabouts  

     

    The truth is that walls are not nice 

    To put it succinctly - Walls kill

    Look at what happened in Berlin

    How many lives were lost on the Red side of Checkpoint Charlie

    Before Reagan bankrupted them and it was torn down?

     

    Movies were made about that wall

    Lots of good actors starred in them

    Michael Caine and Ian Holm in spy thrillers

    John Hurt tried to fly over it with his family in a home-made balloon

    And poor Claire Bloom and Richard Burton were massacred at its base

    And "Johnboy" Thomas dug a tunnel under it to save his girl and her family

    And Werner Meyer and his wife and kids made it across

    Suspended in a bucket-crane that he controlled                                                             

    But that wasn't a movie - It really happened!

     

    In Israel they're building a wall to seperate the Palestinians and Jews

    It's supposed to keep out suicide bombers

    But it's not high enough to stop the rockets that fly over it and kill people

     

    In California, Arizona and Texas they're building a wall to keep out "illegals"

    But who is going to pick the tomatoes and lettuce and fruit?

    The growers say they'll have to plow everything under if they don't get some help

    A few of us might starve eventually - some of those "undesireables" probably will

    That's sort of long-term killing... isn't it?

     

    In 1941- the Nazis crammed over four hundred thousand Jews into Warsaw's Ghetto

    And forced them to build a 10-foot-high brick wall topped by barbed wire

    Effectively walling themselves in… By the end of 1942

    Eighty-three thousand men, women and children perished behind that wall

     

    In China centuries ago - they built a wall four thousand miles long

    It was supposed to keep out the barbarian Huns

    It didn't work even though it cost hundreds of thousands of lives to build it

    That's killing... isn't it?

     

    In Beirut they built a wall to protect our Marines but over two hundred of them died anyway

     

    In Baghdad and Kabul they've built walls around the Green Zones

    To keep out most Iraquis and Afghanis

    Even though it's part of their cities

    But they had to protect the Starbucks and McDonalds and the beauty salons

    Mortar-shells can still arch over them though

    And people get killed

     

    Since time began - walls have been built to protect people and property

    But they don't

     

    No doubt about it…

    Walls kill

             

     

     

                 

  •  

     

     

     

    The Birthday Party   

     

    April 20th 1938

    It is a warm lovely evening in the South Bronx

     

    After the cops check us out in the lobby below

    We are allowed to watch from the roof of the tenement across the street

     

    The orchestra has been playing for some time

    Melodious waltzes float across to us

    Through the enormous open windows of Ebling's* Casino - An elaborate beer hall

    Each of its huge windows framed in long burgundy drapes

     

    Great chandeliers flood the immense hall with brilliant light

    We see tuxedoed waiters putting final touches on long banquet tables

    Two immense banners are hung behind the stage - Spotlights playing over them

    One is the American flag - Next to it the intertwined broken crosses of Germany

    White-circled in scarlet and black

    Dozens of smaller versions of both hang from the ceiling

    Miniatures of each are placed side-by-side in the center of each lavish table

     

    In the street below - glamorous arrivals emerge from gleaming limousines

    Distinguished men in immaculate dinner jackets - some in splendid uniforms

    Stately women in gorgeous gowns and sparkling jewels

    Tall young men wearing smart brown uniforms

    Stand on either side of the bright red carpet leading from the curb

    Blond and muscular - their arm-bands decorated with the broken crosses

    They form an avenue for the dazzling couples disembarking from their limousines

     

    Traffic has ceased on 156th Street

    The cops are everywhere - on foot and mounted on skittish horses

    Even the trolleys have stopped running on St Ann's

    More limousines wait - lined up on the steep hill above the Hall

    Hundreds of curious people stand behind the barricades on the sidewalks below

    Many are Jews from the tenements and open markets a few blocks away

    Everyone is strangely silent as each polished car pulls up

    And their resplendent occupants step out

     

    The smiling couples gather on the steps of the ornate flood-lit entrance

    Photographers' flashes memorialize the growing assembly

     

     At last the final limousine rolls up - longer than the others

    Small german flags with the broken crosses are mounted on its fenders

    The honor guard click their heels and raise their right arms in a stiff salute

    A tall man in brown uniform and glistening boots emerges and returns the gesture

    Scarlet bands with the broken crosses are wrapped around his upper arms

    A beautiful woman in a long white gown follows

    People around us whisper she is a famous opera star from Germany

    The brown-clad leader takes her arm and guides her up the steps

     

    A low muttering rises up from the barricades

    The police stiffen - The mounted officers edge their horses closer

    Rotten tomatoes and eggs fly from the crowd

    They fall short into the street - A few splatter against the limousine

    None reach the tall thin man and the blond woman in the beautiful gown

     

    The brown uniforms start toward the barricades but are called back by the leader

    The mounted police charge the crowd

    A few are knocked down but are helped up - Everyone runs down the hill

    The cops chase them across St Ann's as the first trolley rumbles past

     

    The glittering guests promenade into the great hall

    We watch from our roof-top as they search for their places

    When they are seated the waiters draw Ebling's beer in decorated steins

    From shiny taps set into the walls

    They place them in front of each male guest

    They pour champagne from bottles in ice-buckets for the women

    Finally they roll in carts piled high with heaps of steaming food

    Our mouths water

     

    The orchestra strikes up brisk oompah tunes

    Everyone sings along and clinks and drinks and laughs and eats

    A long time passes

     

    Finally the leader at the head table taps at the microphone

    The orchestra stops playing

    He stands and raises his glass and proposes a toast

    Everyone stands - holding their steins and glasses of champagne

     

    Benny Grossman and his uncle are on the roof with us

    Mr Grossman owns the candy-store on Eagle Avenue and understands German

    He says the tall thin man wishes the Great Fuhrer a happy 50th birthday

    He thanks the Fuhrer for his victory over the Reds and the Jews in the homeland

    Out shoots his arm and he bellows into the microphone "Sig Heil!"

    The people stick out their arms and yell back "Sig Heil!"

    We ask Mr Grossman what it all means but he just looks sad and doesn't answer

    Benny asks him - What's a Fuhrer?

     

    The great chandeliers are suddenly dimmed and this immense movie screen is lowered

    From the ceiling behind the orchestra as it leaves the stage

     

    We see an incredible image projected

    We see what looks like millions of people sitting in a collosal stadium

    High above them this gigantic symbol of the broken crosses

    Sits atop a long circular row of tall columns lit by powerful lights

    We see what looks like millions of soldiers lined up in perfect formation

    They stand absolutely still as powerful searchlights play over them

    Everyone is very quiet like they're getting ready for something to happen

     

    The screen is suddenly filled with Hitler's image!

    He wears the same uniform as the soldiers far below him

    The people at the tables in the great hall stand up and cheer and clap

    The leader growls into the microphone and they shut up

     

    Hitler starts to speak -

    Softly - Slowly - Hypnotically at first

    As he goes on - his voice gets louder and louder

    Until he is screaming and making strange weird crazy faces

    He waves his arms wildly and lifts his hands to heaven like the priest in our church

    The hordes in the stadium and the hundreds in the hall

    Set up such a deafening roar 

    That it scares the hell out of Benny and me

     

    Benny's uncle tells us Hitler says the German people won't take it any more!

    Hitler screams that Germany is now the most powerful nation in the world!

    He screams they have rid themselves of the Red cancer in their midst!

    He screams German workers won't be starved again by Jewish bankers!

    He screams Germany will take back what was taken from them in the last war!

    He screams that Germany might take back a lot more!

    He screams that the German people will again be masters of their fate!

    He screams Germany's 'New Order' will live for a thousand years!

     

    When he is finished - a fat man in uniform with lots of medals stands up

    Out shoots his arm - "Sig Heil" he yells!

    The people in the great stadium thunder back 'Sig Heil!"

    The crowd in the dimly-lit hall burst out "Sig Heil!"

    Twice more he yells "Sig Heil"

    Twice more everyone explodes "Sig Heil!"

     

    Mr Grossman says in Yiddish "My poor people"

    Benny whispers to me in English what he says

    We both don't understand

    "What poor people?" Benny says to him "Everybody's poor in the South Bronx!"

     

    Mr Grossman smiles and says "It’s pretty late...

    Tomorrow is for school and we should go home now

    To our mommas and our pappas and our nice warm beds”

     

     

     

    *In April of 1945 in the hills of Northern Luzon, we received our monthly ration of beer. It was

     a case of warm Ebling’s  - The brewery was only three blocks from our apartment in the Bronx.

     The rent was forty dollars a month because my mother cleaned and polished the halls and stairs

     of four floor units three times a week for the balance…

     

     Ebling’s was destroyed by the junkies in the early ‘60s for its copper brewing kettles and

     everything else they could cart off… Only a few short blocks away a little girl, the newest

     member of the Supreme Court of the United States was growing up…

     

     

     

     

  •  

     

     

     

    Dark Lady of the Wood  

     

    The wood is purpled with an obdurate fog

    Through which a happier light cannot break through

    And on this lichened slab of ledge

    Where he has paused to rest; she finds him

    And wraps him up within her verdant shawl

     

    She croons and cradles him to her moss-scented breast

    Wild quince beribboning her ebony hair

    His eyes now weighted by her soft slow song

    He slips away from his immediate self

    Into a feathery world of disencumbered dream

     

    It’s been so long he’s waited for her to emerge

    Out of the inky green and interwoven brackens of his mind

    A vagabond once lost along slow subtle trails

    He is at peace at last; asleep on this pavilion of beyond

    Abstract quiescent self; unrecognizable as he

     

    Her lips so soft and faintly tasting now of salt

    She breathes a soul-enveloping mist into his mouth

    She drugs him; drags him deeper into her embrace

    And he submits lost to a simpler more pacific place

    Happier now than he has ever been

     

    Dark lady of the wood; soft lady of the moss

    Float him insentient to bride-chambered earth

    Don’t let him ache; don’t let him hurt

    He loves you more than you can ever know

    In reaching now for your alluvial grace

     

    But you reject him still; it’s not yet time

    Wake him; he still has a few more trails to roam

    But soon he’ll lie again within arboreal shrine

    And then you’ll kiss eyes shut in brilliant sleep

    And fly with him to paradise

     

     

     

     

     

  •  

     

     

     

    Annie Millicent  

     

    He will resurrect her

    He will bring her back from where her soul reposes

    She will be reborn one of these nights through his will

    She will be reborn one of these nights through his words

    She will tell him what it is like to lie in this lonely place

    Interred within this unsympathetic necropolis

    For more than a hundred years

     

    "Is her's the only Roman marker

    Preserved among so many Lutheran stones?"

     

    She will float up out of the icy ground

    She will appear to him as he imagines himself beside her

    She will whisper to him about herself one of these nights in a dream

    She will curl up in his arms and never be afraid again

    She will know he'll understand because he is the father of daughters

    She will burrow inside his anorak and be warm again

    Shielded from the shivering arctic winds

    Moaning through the scattered monuments

     

    "Was she a bright lovely child or a spoiled difficult little girl?

    And does it really matter?"

     

    She will tell him about her friends and the happy games they played

    High above this fledgling town - Up here on the Pyynikki Ridge

    Sliding down its white hills on the sparkling winter snow

    Running up its green hills on summer afternoons

    As their nannies gossiped about their mothers' minor sins

     

    "Even then - She was always within sight of her eventual grave

    With the loom of the Aleksanterin Cathedral hovering"

     

    Yes - She will tell him about herself

    She will whisper to him about her mother - How beautiful she was

    And how much her mother truly loved her

    And that she forgives her mother for what happened

    And she will speak to him about her father one of these nights in a dream

    How handsome and kind and clever he was

    And how much he truly loved her

     

    "But why did they leave her to rot in this lonely place?

    Why didn't they take her home to Hampshire with them"

      

    She will tell him about the men in frock coats and stove-pipe hats

    Who came to talk with her father in their gracious dining room

    And smoked cigars and sipped brandy beneath the grand chandeliers

    As they unrolled long sheets of ivory parchment on the great table

    And spent long hours discussing them and marking them with quill and ink

    While their maid served coffee and Karelian pies

    Was her father the High Manager at the new mill

    Or the Chief Engineer come before she was born

    To harness the rapids roiling between the lakes?

     

             "In Affectionate Remembrance of

                       ANNIE MILLICENT

                            Daughter of

                 Henry and Betsy Horrocks

                   Who Departed This Life

                       February 10, 1879

                          Aged 7 years

         'Of Such is the Kingdom of Heaven' ''

     

    Will she tell him how she died?

    Perhaps she was knocked down by a run-away horse

    Pulling a sleigh beside the Mariankatu?

    Perhaps her mother averted her gaze for a few moments

    As she played with her friends in this little park

    And the crazed animal stomped her into the snow turned red with her blood

    At this very spot where she lies in the frozen earth

    Because her father wished it so

     

    Will she tell him how the grave-diggers built a great fire to thaw the ground

    And that her parents left for England and home that same bitterly cold day

    After they lowered her broken body into the ground?

    Of course - She won't tell him of her father's magical vision

    He sees it for himself each evening from his daughter's house

    Up here on the Pyynikki Ridge*

    As the city below glitters and gleams with its myriad lights

    He accepts better than most - Those crinkled parchment sheets

    Transformed into the proletariat poet's urban paradise

     

    "From the country-side they came - Not just from the North

    But also from the West, from the East and from the South

    From all parts came a constant stream of new human material

    Those tough fixtures of the land who with a dream in their hearts

    Finally decided to take charge of their fortunes -

    This is how they came - Those who built this town for us!"

      

     Lauri Viita - (Moreeni - 1950) - Tampere Finland

     

    *Our youngest daughter married an exchange student from Tampere and has lived there

     for many years.                                            Lauri Viita is the poet-laureate of Finland.