footsteps in the hallway
whispers in the dark
an extended empty hand
a back turns slowly
a door closes
blinds drawn against the sun
sighs like thunder
tears like rain
there are no tomorrows
only yesterdays

boats glide by
on the sea
the sun hot
on my neck
kids play football
on the lawn
beyond the bench
where I sit
a dog rolls over
sunning his belly
and a group of men
build a fire
to roast kebob
though there is peace
in the air
yet there is still
an empty spot
where your hand
should be

I sought that violin in the night.
I searched street by pitch-black street,
went house by weathered house,
star by star.
It faded
and fell silent
then suddenly surged,
. . . . . . . . . . .a flare
in the brackish night.
It was a pattern of incendiary sound,
a spiral of musical contours,
and I went on searching
street by street
for the dark violin’s
lifeline,
the source submerged in silence.
Finally, there
he was,
at the entrance to a bar:
a man and his
. . . . . .hungry violin.

The last drunk
weaved homeward
to a bunk on board a ship,
and violated tables
shrugged off empty glasses.
Nobody was left waiting,
and nobody was on the way.
The wine had left for home,
the beer was sound asleep,
and in the doorway
soared
the violin with its ragged
companion,
it soared
over…

Rich and full, all surging swells and white gulls in flight,
it flows springtime deep, its green a crystalline dye for robes.

Going south and coming back north, you grow older, older.
Late light lingers, farewell to a fishing boat bound for home.

translated by David Hinton

Kids keep  tugging at my robes, asking:
Why did it take you so long to come back?

And who were you fighting those months
and years to win all that silk-white hair?

translated by David Hinton

there are those moments
in life
when someone says
or does
something so astounding
either in brilliance or ignorance
that you go
what was that all about
and today
of all days
as I was out wandering
on these ancient streets
I had such a moment
and thought
they follow me
these people
halfway around the world
to keep me on my metaphoric toes
no sleepwalking here
for this long island kid
you can’t let your guard down
not for a moment
even if you think it’s safe
no sharks in sight
the water warm and inviting
uh huh
sure right
Norman Rockwell country
here in Turkey
but there is no safe harbor
no sign of relief
and no matter how hard you try
you just won’t get
what that was all about

Well, then, the last day the sharks appeared.
Dark fins appear, innocent
as if in fair warning. The sea becomes
sinister, are they everywhere?
I tell you, they break six feet of water.
Isn’t it the same sea, and won’t we
play in it any more?
I liked it clear and not
too calm, enough waves
to fly in on. For the first time
I dared to swim out of my depth.
It was sundown when they came, the time
when a sheen of copper stills the sea,
not dark enough for moonlight, clear enough
to see them easily. Dark
the sharp lift of the fins.