The Urban Spectacle

City Perch

City Voices II


Take a seat, Yael, rest now.

Rest. Listen to the leaves

Here on Rothschild Boulevard.


Leave the grey stairs of Albuquerque behind,

Forget the cool Baltic sky

And the yellow paintings of a treacherous woman.


Breathe, Yael, and climb the steps

To the high perch.

What kind of break do you need?


Pull out the nail, Yael, which you once hammered

Into your stories. Sit

And speak to somebody


Who is near.

Still In Silence

A Little Poem on Still-life With A Teapot

All those apples and apricots, oranges, pears –
I don’t really know if they are.
I am looking at silence.

The line of beauty does not even whisper.

Somebody leans on my shoulder:
“T’was me, I came along accidentally and took a bite.”
Who is he? Must be Adam, smiling at an apple.