Monday, November 24, 2014

Women Speak Out for Peace and Justice 2014 Holiday Peace Bazaar

Women Speak Out for Peace and Justice


2014 Holiday Peace Bazaar and Festival

December 3rd - 10 am to 4 pm

Pilgrim Congregational Church, 2592 W. 14th St, Cleveland

  • A gathering of peace and justice organizations

  • Work of local artists

  • Gifts items

  • Plants

  • Bake sale

  • Le Petit Cafe

Call to volunteer - 216-231-4245             Come to shop!!

Friday, September 12, 2014

Juan Carlos Galeano's "History"

Poem of the Week: 
Juan Carlos Galeano

In the north we hunted many buffalo
whose lard warmed us all winter.

But in the jungle they told us that to bring more light
we should throw more trees into the sun's furnace.

One day our hand slipped and tossed in the entire jungle
with its birds, fish, and rivers.

Now we spend a lot of time gazing at the stars
and our daily menu almost never changes.

Today we hunted down a cloud
that was going to become winter in New York City


From The Ecopoetry Anthology, edited by Ann Fisher-Wirth and Laura Gray Street. (Trinity University Press, San Antonio, Texas.) Used by permission.

JUAN CARLOS GALEANO was born in the Colombian Amazon. He is the author of several books of poetry and translations of American poetry. His work inspired by Amazonian cosmologies has been published and anthologized internationally and widely translated. Magazines and journals such as The Atlantic Monthly, Field, PloughsharesTriQuarterly,and Antioch Review have published his poems. Other works include a collection of folktales Cuentos amazónicos (2014), Folktales of the Amazon (2009), as well as a film he co-directed and co-produced, The Trees Have a Mother (2008). He teaches Latin American poetry and cultures of the Amazon at Florida State University.

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Friday, August 8, 2014

Early Prophetic Opening by George Fox

"And the Lord answered that it was needful I should have a sense of all conditions, how else should I speak to all conditions; and in this I saw the infinite love of God. I saw also that there was an ocean of darkness and death, but an infinite ocean of light and love, which flowed over the ocean of darkness. And in that also I saw the infinite love of God; and I had great openings." from Early Prophetic Openings by George Fox

Wednesday, August 6, 2014

Sergey Gandlevsky poem in audio

My translation of the untranslateable Russian poet Sergey Gandlevsky,Сергей Гандлевский, whose "All at once—things in the corridor" will be part of a future collection in English.

For more Gandlevsky (in bilingual edition):
To purchase directly from Zephyr Press, go here:
If you're interested in losing more bookstores, you can go here:

Monday, August 4, 2014

Deema Shehabi's "Of Harvest and Flight"

Deema Shehabi is the granddaughter of the former mayor of Gaza, though she grew up in exile and now lives in California. I can think of no other way to honor Palestinians from Gaza, and their predicament, than to quote one as eloquent as Deema.


Beneath a wet harvest of stars in a Gaza sky,
my mother tells me how orchards
once hid the breach of fallen oranges,
and how during a glowing night

of beseeching God in prayer,
when the night nets every breath
of every prayer,
my uncle, a child then, took flight

from the roof of the house.
The vigilant earth had softened
just before his body fell to the ground,
but still there's no succumbing to flight's abandon;

our bodies keep falling on mattresses,
piles of them are laid out on living room floors
to sleep multitudes of wedding visitors:
the men in their gowns

taunt roosters until dusk,
while women taunt
with liquid harvest in their eyes,
and night spirits and soldiers

continue to search the house
between midnight and three in the morning.
On the night of my uncle's nuptial,
I watch my mother as she passes

a tray of cigarettes to rows of radiant guests
with a fuschia flower in her hair . . . .
Years before this, I found a photograph
of her sitting on my father's lap,

slender legs swept beneath her,
like willow filaments in river light.
His arm was firm around her waist;
his eyes bristled, as though the years of his youth

were borders holding him back
and waiting to be scattered.
Those were the years when my mother
drew curtains tightly over windows

to shut out the frost world of the Potomac;
she sifted through pieces of news
with her chest hunched over a radio,
as though each piece when found

became a story and within it
a space for holding our endless
debris.  But in truth,
it was only 1967, during the war,

three years before I was born . . . .
But tonight, in Gaza beneath the stars,
I turn towards my mother
and ask her how a daughter

can possibly grow beyond
her mother's flight.  There's no answer;
instead she leans over me
with unreadable long-ago eyes

and points to the old wall:
the unbolting of our roots there,
beside this bitter lemon tree,
and here was the crumbling

of the house of jasmine
arching over doorways,
the house of roosters
and child-flight legends,

this house of girls
with eyes like simmering seeds.

© by Deema K. Shehabi

Sunday, July 27, 2014

On the Attitude Toward Children in Times of War, by Dahlia Ravikovitch (translated by Chana Bloch)

This is from Chana Bloch, in response to the deaths in Gaza:

I have no words. This is by Dahlia Ravikovitch (1936-2005), one of the great Hebrew poets of our time, acclaimed for her poetry, admired and vilified for her political activism...Chana Bloch

On the Attitude toward Children in Times of War

He who destroys thirty babies  
it is as if he'd destroyed three hundred babies,
and toddlers too,    
or even eight-and-a-half year olds;
in a year, God willing, they'd be soldiers
in the Palestine Liberation Army.  

Benighted children,     
at their age
they don't even have a real world view.
And their future is shrouded, too:       
refugee shacks, unwashed faces,
sewage flowing in the streets,
infected eyes,
a negative outlook on life.

And thus began the flight from city to village,
from village to burrows in the hills.
As when a man did flee from a lion,
as when he did flee from a bear,
as when he did flee from a cannon,
from an airplane, from our own troops.  

He who destroys thirty babies,
it is as if he'd destroyed one thousand and thirty,
or one thousand and seventy,
thousand upon thousand.
And for that alone shall he find  
no peace.

from Hovering at a Low Altitude: The Collected Poetry of Dahlia Ravikovitch
trans. Chana Bloch & Chana Kronfeld (Norton 2009).

     Author's note: This is a variation on a poem by Natan Zach that deals [satirically] with the question of whether there were exaggerations in the number of children reported killed in the [1982] Lebanon War. 
     Lines 1-2, He who destroyscf. Babylonian Talmud, Sanhedrin 4:5: "He who destroys a single human soul . . . , it is as if he had destroyed an entire world." 
     Lines 16-17, As when a man: Amos 5:19, about the danger of apocalyptic yearnings.