Leo Yankevich

Veteran Poet - 1,840 Points (October 30,1961 / Farrell, Pennsylvania)

Leo Yankevich Poems

1. Mary Magdalene 2/11/2008
2. Mary 5/7/2008
3. Market 4/5/2009
4. Summit 1/28/2013
5. Jacob's Ladder,1888 3/9/2013
6. Trees, Walking 3/9/2013
7. Ultima Thule 3/10/2013
8. Godfather 6/22/2013
9. Before His Majesty 6/19/2014
10. The Bell-Toller 6/19/2014
11. A Hundred Since The First 8/15/2014
12. The Donetsk Morgue 8/28/2015
13. What They Found 8/28/2015
14. Buk Near Donetsk 8/28/2015
15. Lermontov, Verlaine, Trakl, Yesenin 8/28/2015
16. Do Not Shed Tears For The Drowned Boys 9/9/2015
17. Refugees 9/9/2015
18. Hindenburgstraße 8 9/9/2015
19. Kitten 11/1/2015
20. A Tree And Its Fruit 11/1/2015
21. Archie Bunker Rhymes 11/1/2015
22. Mother Europe 11/1/2015
23. Deep Sleep 11/1/2015
24. Your Mother’s Eyes, Your Father’s Chin 11/1/2015
25. Dream: Milosz 11/1/2015
26. Seven 11/10/2015
27. A Magic Mountain 11/20/2015
28. Neanderthal 11/22/2015
29. Nowica 12/6/2015
30. After Hieronymus Bosch 12/7/2015
31. Sunday Morning 1/10/2016
32. In Fear 2/1/2016
33. An Interview With The Oldest Man In Europe 2/5/2016
34. Holodomor,1932-1933 2/9/2016
35. December,1942 2/9/2016
36. St. Bartholomew's Church 2/9/2016
37. The Łemko Steeple 2/9/2016
38. Anonymous Rex 2/9/2016
39. Black Ops 2/9/2016
40. Vision 2/9/2016
Best Poem of Leo Yankevich

Apollo’s Archaic Torso

(after the German of Rainer Maria Rilke)

We have no knowledge of his ancient brow
where pippins ripen. Yet his torso gleams,
reflecting the candela, luminous streams
that yet pour from his gaze, his glance’s glow

still radiant, though dimmed. If not, his bare
breast would not blind you in the silent turn
of hip and thighs, a smile not flash and burn
through groins, his genitals not ever glare.

If not, this stone would seem deformed and small,
the light beneath his shoulder’s sudden fall
not seem a preying panther’s shimmering mane, ...

Read the full of Apollo’s Archaic Torso

Racked Beauty

Blest be the dawn, the luminous blue-slate,
the arch transfused by the glorious sun,
and blackbirds chanting hymnals in prickly bushes,
and rooks high over fields coughing up love.

Blest be the winds about the furrowed brow,
and the joyful whispers of dying leaves,
the maples staggered blissfully behind barbed fences
above the tombs of the newly redeemed.

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