February 19-25, 2018: Poetry from Simon Perchik and Bob Zaslow

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Simon Perchik and Bob Zaslow

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Simon Perchik
simon@hamptons.com

Bio (auto)

Simon Perchik (East Hampton, New York) has had poetry appear in Partisan Review, The Nation, The New Yorker and elsewhere. Visit him on the web here.

The following work is Copyright © 2018, and owned by Simon Perchik. and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


untitled

Once into the turn it spirals up
as if your lips are clouding over
breaking free from your face
 
the way the ground allows a hole
to rise, spills out its shadow
without any darkness
 
–it’s just a donut, a trace
though the sugar too is cold
dangerous, flying up-side-down
 
sleepless and in the far off snow
that remembers you, reaches across
tries not to promise you anything.


untitled

Though it’s familiar this flower
doesn’t recognize the breeze
wriggling out the ground
 
as that distance without any footsteps
–its petals have no memory left
no scent that can expand into mist
 
prowling for more darkness
the way moonlight tries to remember
once passing through the Earth
 
on all fours, sniffing for stones
hidden from where your fingers
will clasp each other sideways
 
and the dirt still close by
–will smother all that happened
has no past, means nothing now.

 



Bob Zaslow
rzaslow2@gmail.com

Bio (auto)

I’m Bob Zaslow, a retired teacher, living in Mahopac, NY. I’ve been an advertising copywriter and documentary film-maker as well as an educator. I’ve written and published, Rap-Notes: Shakespeare’s Greatest Hits, five long poems meant to be sung as raps of Romeo & Juliet, Hamlet, Macbeth, King Lear, and A Midsummer Night’s Dream. In addition, my musical play The Seed of Abraham, was performed for a short run at the Bleecker Street Theatre as part of the 2011 FringeNYC Festival, and my documentary film, Nadine Valenti, Portrait of an Artist, won an American Film Festival Bronze. Finally, in my advertising career, I’ve won a Clio and two Effie awards. Visit Bob, AKA "Mr. Z", on the web here.

The following work is Copyright © 2018, and owned by Bob Zaslow and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


Peace Piece

As a ruse, I photographed Bill Evans with my Nikon at the Top of the Gate
And his jazzy notes were a jig-saw puzzle of harmony and discord, impossible to hum
But they made me want to sing
Made me want to move inside and around them
Made me want to go to church go to heaven go to Rockaway Beach in winter
And feel the music/cold/night pierce through me
I could hear his feelings like he was revealing them in black and white
Which he was: 36 black and 52 white speaking parts
No structure no sequence no solutions no salutations no cerebralizations
Just vibrations resonations actualizations ideations IDEATIONS
Without words or predictability, where expressions express
And we, the lucky audience, got to take it all in
If we also listened without words
Not like the rube talking up his girl while swirling the ice in his Singapore Sling
And we got to hear what heaven probably sounds like
I heard it, I swear I heard it that day in 1970-something
On the corner of Bleecker and Thompson
And somewhere, up in my attic in a box, I’ve got photos in black and white to prove it

 



 


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