שבת שירה

Don’t go
The straight way
You might get lost
In the allure of easy.
Take instead
The wandering stick
Your blood and bread
Carry your weight
Split the sea.

ולא נחם אלהים דרך ארץ פלשתים כי קרוב הוא

Sing to me, O
Lovely bird.
Sing to me, you
Beautiful fairy.
Sing to me,
Lord of Praise,
Tell me all,
It will be

Words wandered
Contradicting each other
Each peeking
To another day
Sometimes they rhymed
Only In another language
Their sentence structures made sense,
In another dialect
Their letters were legible only
By modern laser vision
And they wept
If only men would see
Our creative harmony
We wouldn’t be delegated
To the heaps of editors
Forcing their language
On another world.

Some people say It’s cryptic poetry, to me it’s the most lucid representation of mind, to which direct prose is convulted and cryptic.

Heaven.

A Nimshal
To all the parables
A Pitaron,
To all the dreams.
The thing in itself.
God.

After splitting the sea,
God said:
That was hard.
After watching people
Wade through relationships,
Split seeds to bring bread,
God Said:
I shouldn’t complain.

קשה זיווגו של אדם כקריעת ים סוף, קשים מזונותיו של אדם כקריעת ים סוף.

Did the sea split,
Or did it crack open
Bursting on its burdens
Did the waters part
Or did they break up,
Having had enough.
Perhaps it ripped,
By force of passion
Spilling all waters
Into the one.