Marc Radzyner
Marc Radzyner Poems
olive trees all gnarled within,
conceal their flowering,
spring has passed
...
when the girl says not that way
the scene just before Anton Chigurh kills her
he has killed so many he has killed them all
what gets you is her wide eyes her credulity
...
תהום לפניך
In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth
and the earth was without form and void
...
having wound his way from outside
through the labyrinth of wooden beams and rafters
a sparrow is trapped inside the house
...
walking on Igael's track towards his unbuilt
house are two carob trees- in the autumn
walk in the morning or evening, you will smell
the fragrance of fermenting carob pods,
...
today in the kids' blue pool
in the milk white light
blue-eyed infant girl, no more than four
alone wading in the water
...
"From May 15 until July 9,1944, almost half a million Hungarian Jews
were deported to Auschwitz. Most were killed on arrival.'
...
uninvited, bright blue yet dark
sky welcomes them
air force jets streak away low
...
what do bugs experience
in the light
drawn to the ultimate sexual task
...
Marc Radzyner Biography
Marc’s early years were in Switzerland and Belgium- his parents being originally from Poland. The family emigrated to Australia when Marc was 6. In Australia he taught literature and published poems and articles in major journals. He lived on a bush property engaging both with life on the land and writing. In 1980 he came to live in Israel with his wife. He taught for many years in a branch of Bar Ilan University. Marc and Dorothy have two sons. They live in the ecological village of Clil in the Western Galilee. He has published one book, The Myth Father (2009) . A Hebrew translation is soon to be published )
The Best Poem Of Marc Radzyner
Cyclamen Anemone Asphodel
olive trees all gnarled within,
conceal their flowering,
spring has passed
the former rains and the latter rains
are done-
blood anemone rooted and spread
in rock and field,
asphodel and cyclamen
are over,
their cycles done−
your mouth firm
your eye firm
your hand firm saying
it shouldn't get better than this
the first hot winds
breathe in our faces
now is the time for
the silk thistle
the blue globe thistle
the purple sharp-leaved
sword thistle−
you paused in your orchard between the trees,
in the middle of building
in the middle of planting
in the middle of painting
looked around
and turned to me
ah Mordecai, careful,
it won't get better than this
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