2015, a gift for Yankees:

Waiting for the Storm

Paul Zweig, from Eternity.s Woods

Will I know him in heavy sunlight
Waiting for the storm?

Will he come dribbling a scuffed ball,
In and out of shadows,

Feinting, laughing to his friends?
Or will he balance on white wings,

A creature of water, of air?
I wait, I look.

If you were crystal, this voice
Would be your nerves.

The numbers on my watch
Are your stutter.step.

There is a property of June;
It is almost blue.

Tomorrow we will call it time.
We will be lying


Paul Zweig presided an independent studies class at Queens College, CUNY, where we chose the texts to read. One was Rimbaud, before his texts mentioned Jews as flea merchants.




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