to home (wherever that may be)

we shall be as a city upon a hill

the phone rang that cold november morning

and mother took her apron off,

leaving us alone in the kitchen.

my brother ate his gerber strapped in his high chair,

i stared at the porridge i couldn’t bring myself to eat,

a spatchula stuck in the frying pan on the stovetop.

the pontiac engine turned-over in the garage and,

in the gear carefully painted R in white,

mother backed down the pebble driveway.

father had been ill that winter,

but he went to work anyway –

mother said he didn’t love her, didn’t love us,

i covered charlie’s ears as they fought at night.

They said he died a peaceful death,

mother said it was suicide

(he didn’t love us, in gin-soaked breath).

i didn’t listen to mother when she said father was a –

a coward.

they took us away that winter.

they said she couldn’t raise us anymore.

i was young, but i knew that that place was never home.

10 Sept 2010 C.D.S.

dreamscape manifesto

i dream of russia,

yet you speak to me

in clumsy italian

& this puzzles me

as black smoke

slowly suffocates us

through defected

gas masks –



i hold your hand

as we fall through

crevasses in the

dry ground

& onto a boat in the

mediterranean/

the air is clean here,


your asthma will


not bother you



you tied a blue

bandana to my

forehead, laughing

at my long face

& pointing out my

small ears

you are such a


silly boy, andrius!

you call my name

in lithuanian,

reminding me that

it means warrior /



i’m not a warrior


but i’d gladly fight


if you were in danger


because i care about you

& you just stared at

me and then you

turned away with a

frown



i notice we are in a

new place, you calling it

home –

& i ask you where

home is and you

just giggle saying

where one starts from

as if you were

eliot himself



you wore my

sandles down the

beach in your sunday

dress with your hat

& i was not ashamed

to be with you with

my pants legs rolled

like the elderly men

who stroll the shore

checking their

crab traps



you told me to

close my eyes

for just a moment

& then we were in

the old house you

grew up in.

your babushka sat there

in her rocker

telling us of the war and

her byelorussian childhood –

we are partisans


who have shot at


german soldiers

said the sign

that hung about the

body of her brother

in that grim image

she tried to forget



i fear for our lives, andrius,

as if we are in danger

here among the olive trees

& you sit trying to

convince me that rasputin

was a holy man/

your father puts those lies


into your head.


ask babushka,


he was an evil man

but you turn away,

disinterested in my

opinions on the past



you seem so innocent

as you sit on the grass

& weave flower crowns/

lidyja,


do you remember when


we were young?



i awake to the sound

of a ceiling fan

& you aren’t there

C.D.S. 2 September 2010

je l'ai vue rire

"Your deeds are famous,so stay resolute, my lord,
defend your life now with the whole of your strength. 
I shall stand by you." - from Beowolf

a year more,
only a year more,
that is all

you are not 
that much older
than me


are you
listening?


no,
you never do -
i forget you are busy

you want children
but you worry 
about your figure

i say you don't
need to worry 
about that


you are so 
beautiful
and i
just...

i need to breathe.

you dress in
basketball shorts,
very unlady-like
if you ask me -
i don't mind though


you wear your 
hair down - 
it is messy,
tangled by 
the wind

life goes on, 
life goes on,
this i have learned

and one day
you may be
mine

C.D.S. 1 September 2010