Another excerpt from B’KLYN

The following poem is another selection from Richard J. Fein’s latest collection, B’KLYN.

From the Diary of Yankev Rivlin

(Feb. 26, 1934)

How strange, growing up inLodz

or growing old here onBroome St.,

never having danced for joy—

yet last night, stamping home

after the Fred Astaire movie,

the only footprints my own,

I watched bulbs burning

under their snow-ribbed helmets

tilted rakishly from wind and wear, snow

tufting the numbered tags

on telephone poles, meringue-treated

cars deserting their models, curbs

softening to pavement, and

I could

romp in my boots anywhere.

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Another Excerpt from IN CAVES

The following poem is another selection from local poet Doritt Carroll’s recently published collection In Caves.

50

if eskimos have 20 words
for snow
then lonely people must have 50 ways
to describe quiet:

plush absorbent silence
of the empty bed
expectant tin can echo of the telephone
not ringing
static fizz as electrons swarm
around the television just turned off

throaty purr of gravel
after the car’s gone past
hum of the sinister refrigerator
backlighting cartons
for a cancelled show

yawn of the cluttered closet
sweater sleeve lolling like a tongue
candle wax that stiffens as it forgets
the flame

harmonic vibrance of the cry
cut short by sudden waking
shift of rearrangement as pills
settle back into their jar
fading tom-tom of the heart
as it gives up
gives up again