Tamir Greenberg Poems
|1.||Song Of Praise||10/15/2009|
|5.||My Grandma Rachel Age Fifteen||10/15/2009|
|15.||Heroin – Epilogue||10/15/2009|
|16.||You Have Never Loved Me||10/15/2009|
|18.||To You, Boys||10/15/2009|
|20.||To You Who Sleep||10/15/2009|
Comments about Tamir Greenberg
To You Who Sleep
To you who sleep on street corners,
hugging a bottle of vodka and scratching in your bitterness,
tottering drunk at intersections, bumming a shekel, a cigarette or gum,
challenging an attaché case and an SUV,
to you from whom a balding man looks away and an elegant woman
hastens to answer her phone as you approach,
you, who are the wound and the salvation, the silence and the scream,
slaves of the white dust falling on the city, ambassadors of dreams,
angels of unconsciousness,
who at some time were given a name, and whose cheeks some woman
caressed with ...
More than anything I hated death.
No, not death. The dead. I mean,
just one dead. I mean, a dark haired boy.
I mean - I didn’t hate. I loved.
Please, you who travel north along the shore,
driving past darkened fish farms, your headlights glowing:
Press down the accelerator and fly, turn on
the radio and cheerfully listen to the power