The Best American Poetry

Freud's Story on Yom Kippur

Two enemies were reconciled before Yom Kippur.  After Yom Kippur was over one said to the other, "Well, I wish you everything that you wish me." "Starting again already?" the other replied.

-- sdh

Abe says man you must be puttin me on

Abe says man you must be puttin me on

God said to Abraham, "Kill me a son"

Abe says, "Man you must be puttin' me on"

Compare to "Take now thy son, thine only son, whom thou lovest" (Genesis, 22:2).

In Dylan’s lines the key word is the vernacular "Man" cutting god down to size. The god in Dylan's song is a diminished thing reigning over a diminished universe. Any son will do for the desired sacrifice. Note the sacred individuality of the biblical Isaac: "thy son, thine only son, whom thou lovest."

You can do what you want Abe, but

The next time you see me comin' you better run

Compare to the biblical Abraham: "God will provide" (Genesis 22:8). God, all action no talk, makes no threats. Abe has faith equal to doubt. The rest is silence.

But now we're on highway 61, the dawn of a noisy new age, 1961, with a handsome new president and a short-lived new frontier, it's over and we're visiting, revisiting if not revising it, and JFK has given way to LBJ how many kids did you kill today -- it's time for VIETNAM -- and Abe, successor to honest Abe, who freed the slaves -- Abe clears his throat:

Abe say "Where do you want this killing done?" '

God say "Out on Highway 61."

And God directs traffic.

And grammar go out window.

And young Isaac is not content with observing the fire and wood and noting the absence of the lamb for the offering.

Young Isaac doesn't want to work for Maggie's brother no more.

He is tired of working for the white man boss and when he thinks of the stream he wants to cross to cool his feet in the heat of a summer day he thinks of death, gambling, and the Mississippi River.

He is tired of bullshit friends who have a lot of nerve and just want to be on the side that's winning.

He has done his share of quarreling in the captain's tower. He has read all of F. Scott Fitzgerald's books. And he knows what is happening (the vandals took the handles) though he doesn't know something is. A strange man, Mr. Jones, Isaac Jones that is.

-- DL

Welcome, LJE

Starting today, Lawrence J. Epstein will file periodic reports on Bob Dylan. Larry, an author who writes about American culture and Jewish life, is currently writing -- for publication by Yale University Press -- a book about folk singers from Woody Guthrie to Dylan.  Epstein's most recent books include The Haunted Smile: The Story of Jewish Comedians in America, Mixed Nuts: America’s Love Affair with Comedy Teams, and At the Edge of a Dream: The Story of Jewish Immigrants on New York’s Lower East Side, 1880-1920. Jenny Factor, our West Coast Correspondent, has referred more than once to the last mentioned.

Welcome aboard, LJE! I hope that in one of your posts you will talk about the opening of "Highway 61 Revisited" in relation to the chapter in Genesis that is its source. This re-telling of Abraham's "binding" of Isaac reminds me a little of Wilfred Owen's poem in which the massacred soldiers of World War One are the victims of a bloodthirsy god and an obedient Abraham on Mount Moriah. But Dylan's version is more sardonic and more ambiguous. What do you think?

-- DL

Genesis 2:22

The Angel of the Divine Presence Bringing Eve to Adam (1803)

by William Blake (1757-1827)

[Metropolitan Museum]

Boys, beware of the Bad Girl! (by Mitch Sisskind)

How ironic that, as intellectuals and aesthetes, those of us who live by words may underestimate the power of the words we speak or write. Just the other say I was in pleasant conversation with a talented versifier when he happened to mention the name "Lilith." Although he was referring to the radical feminist magazine that may or may not still exist, there is no doubt that the real Lilith still exists just as she has since the time of Adam. And to utter her name without quickly pretending to spit twice over one's right shoulder is asking for serious trouble.

Lilith (spit, spit!) as some of you may know, was Adam's first wife. When she affronted the Creator by insisting on "unorthodox" relations with her husband, she was banished from Eden and spent the next 500 years at the bottom of the ocean. Finally she surfaced, determined to wreak as much havoc as possible in human domestic affairs.

When Lilith hears a man mention her name, she surmises (quite correctly!) that a secret wish for her appearance exists in the speaker. Of course, as with any repressed wish, the poor fool may not be aware of his own desire. That's why Lilith always appears in disguise. The new temp at the office, the Fedex delivery girl, the grad student in need of help with her thesis -- any or all of these may be Lilith. But those potential incarnations are relatively easy to resist. Lilith is much more dangerous when she manifests as a man's own wife!

If a woman appears and sounds like his wife, a man -- and especially a poet, naive by nature -- may assume the woman is his wife indeed: "If it looks like a duck..." etc.  He may also forget that he spoke the forbidden name that morning in Starbucks. Well, he's in for a surprise -- and the worst part is, Lilith is dangerously addictive. Not only is she erotically exciting but she's also an excellent conversationalist.

There are two solutions for this problem, both recommended by the ancient sages of the Talmud. First, don't speak the name in the first place! Just refer to the Bad Girl and any educated person will know who you're talking about. Second, create a secret code with your wife that only the two of you know -- an arbitrary phrase like "plate of shrimp"  from the film Repo Man. If you sense anything unusual in your conjugal affairs, demand the password. If it's not forthcoming, fill a bucket with water and pour it on the demon woman. Lilith has hated water ever since her five hundred years in the ocean.

The images above are just two of Lilith's infintely various disguises. On top, of course, is Veronica from Archie Comics; below is a seemingly innocous dental hygenist. Poets! Choose Betty, not Veronica -- and floss daily!

"Like a Monkey" (by Mitch Sisskind)

I had not written a poem for decades. Then at a re-union of old poets of Columbia University I was mysteriously inspired. In my alter ego of the AK-47 carrying Kalashnikover Rebbe, I had found an ancient text in which rabbis rank the most beautiful women in the Bible. Eve wins, but still falls far short of Adam's (phallic) foot. "Like a monkey" is a sort of refrain in the original text.

The Kalashnikover Rebbe, by the way, is only armed against the negativity in himself. David easily defeated Goliath because he had already defeated his inner Goliath. The Kalashnikover Rebbe is still fighting that battle.

Like A Monkey

Our sages tell us Rachel was a beautiful woman. 

Light brown hair brown eyes

Five feet six or seven

Not a clothes horse

But always looked great whether getting ready for work

In white cashmere sweater pleated navy skirt

Or in the bleachers at a Cubs game

In cutoffs and t-shirt

Yet beside Sarah our sages tell us

Rachel was like a monkey

Rachel was like a monkey beside Sarah.

For our sages tell us Sarah was a beautiful woman

And most of all she loved to dance.

People try to move too much she said

Diamonds and rust on the stereo

Really you don't even need to move your feet.

You don't even need to move at all

Or just a little really

Yet beside Eve our sages tell us Sarah was like a monkey.

Sarah was like a monkey beside Eve.

For our sages tell us Eve was a beautiful woman

She dyed her hair to a metallic purple sheen

Wore matching purple eye shadow

And silver jewelry

Goth look but she made it work,

Teardrop tattoo by left eye

So small you might not even notice

And to the surprise of many she majored in cosmology

Physics journals on the floor

In her bathroom by the toilet

Yet beside Adam our sages tell us Eve was like a monkey

Eve was like a monkey beside Adam.

Beside Adam’s foot our sages tell us

Eve was like a monkey

His foot shining brighter than the sun

Brighter than a thousand suns

Flash across the just-created sky

Fission burn

Of which though hidden,

A single spark still burns in you.

-- MS