April 8 Poem

Berlin, 1945

“The rubble women” was how they referred to
the ones who cleared the remains of the city
after the war. It seemed like heavy work for
women, but there weren’t many young men
left around. The daily pay was about the cost
of a pack of cigarettes. They saved the bricks
that remained whole to resell. The corpse of
the city. Before the  cranes, the rebuilding,
someone had to clean it up, someone had to
do it. Hair under handkerchiefs, they don’t seem
unhappy, in black-and-white, despite the stench
and the hard labor, and the ravaged capital, but
anything is better than the bombs falling.

April 4 Poem

Today more than 60 people were gassed to death by their government.
I don’t know how else to put it. At least 10 of them children.
I didn’t want to hear about it either.
I wanted to pack slowly, choose my favorite things to wear on the trip
(dresses because it’s spring), read about the occult and
Alistair Crowley, but the knowledge is like a chemical reaction 
between two elements: it can’t be undone.

April 3 Poem

Greek Demons

On the ferry from Naxos to Piraeus port, we met an Orthodox 
nun, with beads and wimple in the wind. She admired the 
sketches we had made on the island. When she saw the
drawings of the ancient gods, she said, Those are demons

Apollo and Zeus and Demeter. Her demonization reinstated 
their existence, some 2,600 later, far more than the textbooks
of the average Athenian teenagers, drinking iced coffee and
tuning into the buzz of economic crisis around them. 

(The Ancient Greek word “daimon”  is translated  as “god,”
“divine,” “power,” and “fate.”) She then proudly showed 
us, on her primitive cell phone, pictures of her own drawings, 
cartoon characters of squat girls with pigtails and bows and 

goggly eyes. She bemoaned that the church hierarchy forbid 
her using comics to teach children about their faith. Then she 
said we must get married under the Church and have many
babies. In the early Roman Empire, “like pagans, Christians 

still saw the gods and their power, and by an easy shift of
opinion they turned these pagan daimones into malevolent 
‘demons’, the troupe of Satan. Far into the Byzantine period 
Christians eyed their cities’ old  pagan statuary as a seat of 
the demons’ presence. It was no longer beautiful, it was infested.”

April 1 Poem

If the sacred land were really sacred, you reason, would not
some divine assistance keep the bulldozers away?
But the fact of its destruction doesn’t make it less sacred.
Throughout the centuries, when one culture conquered 
another, it would build its houses of worship on the same sites.
Ergo, an oil pipeline is an altar of worship.

Whence the fear of magic? An old woman boiling weeds.
The physical stuff of magic (setting aside the charlatans), 
is of the earth: herbs, blood, flowers, sparkling stones, hair, fire, 
lunar light, organs, felines, water. The shape that crystals take,
or a spider’s web: a geometric fruit of the earth.

Things act on each other at a distance through a secret sympathy
A scholar defines magic separate from religion
saying that it’s an individual matter, rather than a collective experience,
tending toward secrecy. So then, what is a daemon?