Brushes by Hanoch Guy

After Joni Mitchell

I live in a paint box
squeezed between rusty cans.
Crayons pile up.
Brushes irritate my nostrils.
The box is flung open,
Olivia throws out carelessly everything.
looking for her balloon.
Flat on the floor
Run over by mice.
A hairy hand throws me back,
winds me.
A brush in hand
I paint the floor
from a split open pink can.
Crayons draw green purple circles
The baby laughs and throws up.

At night the garage is quiet
except for the red Rambler coughing oil,
dreams of another cross country.
Marveling at the Grand Tetons
and the majestic Pacific shore.

Hanoch Guy spent his childhood and youth in Israel surrounded by citrus orchards ,water melon fields and invading sand dunes. He is a bilingual poet in Hebrew and English,.
Hanoch is emeritus professor of Jewish and Hebrew literature  in Temple University
He has taught mentoring and poetry classes in the Musehouse center in Philly.
Hanoch has published poetry extensively the US,Israel and the UK in Genre,Poetry Newsletter, Tracks , the International Journal of Genocide studies Poetry Motel,Visions International,Voices Israel and several times in Poetica where he won an award
He has also won an award in the Mad Poets Society.

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