Enter Home Planet News Poetry of Issue #4                        Page 7
Table of

           All distances in France are measured
          from Notre Dame.

When I feel distant
from everyone and everything
and distant from myself
broody moody
hag ridden by too many distances
and the 4th dimension
O time time time
I come back at warp speed
to my younger self
seeking out the king kilometer
I come back to kilometer Zero
at the heart of Il de la Cité
to get centered
get a starting point
get a grip
get Notre-Damed
with incense and votive candles

O pivotal zero
for all distances
in all directions
walking running flying
sometimes even backed by silent sopranos
by altos tenors baritones
by the silences of a heavenly choir
going the unheard of distance
to a rose window heaven
starting near kilometer Zero
radiating for unheard of miles

  David Gershator


In the Marais
just passing through
with a black box
holding darkness
under my arm
box full of poems
box full of emptiness
box full of pacifiers
box full of rage
box full of photos
for the blind
box full of puppets
for child deportees
box full of bullets
voices feathers
box full of cries
box full of faces
box of hunger
box full of lyrics
box full of smoke
box full of lightbulbs
just passing
through the night
ville lumiere
Paris city of plaques
reistance complicity
Vel' d'Hiv
dark doings done
in broad daylight
box full of birds
box full of burdens
Vel' d'Hiv
Vel' d'Hiver
torn down
still there

  David Gershator


Forgive the rain
spitting cold and nasty
there are no love poems
left in the air aujourd'hui
none left in Paris

there are no lovers on fire
running home from the Louvre
there are no poets believing
in the love of their life

you are what you are
an angry hunger
she is what she is
a few leaves still dogging her heels

the Seine washes away
the sin of suicide
successful or not

the Muse can take a flying leap
off the nearest bridge
it's that kind of day

you are what you are
she is what she is
a bird in the branches
looks down on you

  David Gershator__


On and off again
rain or threatening to rain--

Boulevard Sebastopol
not far from the Seine
a young African woman
on a phone
mais tu m'avais promis
but you promised me
but you promised me
her voice echoing
up and down Sebastopol

Ah yes
that promise of Paris
the famous broken promise

  David Gershator__



    It's been years, Paris
    it's been years
    since I threw
    rotten chestnuts in the Seine
    what's that little song
    I wanted to hear again
    that leftover lullaby
    in the morning
    left hanging in the air

      David Gershator__