crazy.

I don't really know where this poem came from. If you wanna be lenient, say I'm being surreal. Sometimes really epic black moods descend on me and impel themselves into poetry. It is, however, Hoshana Rabbah, a Jewish holiday that translates roughly to "The Great Hosanna." Poem 21. if poems were years, this blog could legally drink.

On The Day of The Great Hosanna

The carob trees burned all night
and burn into the morning.
The sea breaks on brown hills restless
as panting chests.
It was the day we lost our memories
that the flames began like this,
terrible bellows that swell and swell,
some recollection of the molten
origin of the earth.
Under the wrecked
kindled crowns of the carobs
all we can do is gather seeds in our fingers,
breaths shallow
and grave,
while up unseen the terrible eagles wait
darting their secret tongues into the air.