Leonard Cohen
1997
THE PARTY WAS OVER THEN TOO
When I was about fifteen
I followed a beautiful girl
into the Communist Party of Canada.
There were secret meetings
and you got yelled at
if you were a minute late.
We studied the McCarran Act
passed by the stooges in Washington,
and the Padlock Law
passed by their lackeys in Quebec,
and they said nasty shit
about my family
and how we got our money.
They wanted to overthrow
the country that I loved
(and served, as a Sea Scout).
And even the good people
who wanted to change things,
they hated them too
and called them social fascists.
They had plans for criminals
like my uncles and aunties
and they even had plans
for my poor little mother
who had slipped out of Lithuania
with two frozen apples
and a bandanna full of monopoly money.
They never let me get near the girl
and the girl never let me get near the girl.
She became more and more beautiful
until she married a lawyer
and became a social fascist herself
and very likely a criminal too.
But I admired the Communists
for their pig-headed devotion
to something absolutely wrong.
It was years before I found something comparable for myself:
I joined a tiny band of steel-jawed zealots
who considered themselves
the Marines of the spiritual world. It's just a matter of time:
we'll be landing this raft
on the Other Shore,
we'll be taking that beach
on the Other Shore. Mt. Baldy, May 1997
LOVE ITSELF FOR L.W.
The light came through the window now
straight from the sun above,
and so inside my little room
there plunged the rays of Love.
In streams of light I clearly saw
the dust you seldom see,
the dust the Nameless makes to speak
a Name for one like me.
And all mixed up with sunlight now
the flecks did float and dance
and I was tumbled up with them Yom Kippur 1973;
in formless circumstance. a.k.a
Jikan the Unconvincing,
I'll try to say a little more: zen monk;
this Love went on and on a.k.a
until it reached an open door - Leonard Cohen,
Then Love itself was gone. Certified Food Worker,
San Bernadino County, CA;
The self-same moment words were seen a.k.a
from every window frame, The Founder,
but there was nothing left between Order of the Unified Heart;
the Nameless and the Name. a.k.a
The Best Dressed Man in Montreal
Mt. Baldy, 1997- 2001
(local newspaper) Mt. Baldy, 1997

NOT A JEW
SEISEN IS DANCING
Anyone who says
Seisen has a long body.
I'm not a Jew Her shaved head
threatens the skylight
is not a Jew and her feet go down
I'm very sorry into the vegetable cellar.
When she dances for us
but this is final at one of our infrequent celebrations,
the dining hall
with it's cargo of weightless monks and nuns,
so says: bounces around her hips
Eliezar, son of Nissan, like a hula-hoop.
priest of Israel; The venerable old pine trees
a.k.a crack out of sentry duty
Nightingale of the Sinai, and get involved,
as do the San Gabriel mountains TO A YOUNG NUN
and the flat cities
This undemanding love
of Claremont, Upland
that our staggered births
and the Inland Empire.
have purchased for us --
And ocean speaks to ocean
You in your generation,
saying, What the hell,
I in mine.
let's go with it, rouse ourselves.
I am not the one
The Milky Way undoes its spokes
you are looking for.
and cleaves to Seisen's haunches,
You are not the one
as do the worlds beyond,
I've stopped looking for.
and worlds unborn,
How sweetly time
not to mention darkest holes
disposes of us
of brooding anti-matter,
as we go arm in arm
and random flying mental objects
over the Bridge of Details:
like this poem,
Your turn to chop.
fucking up the atmosphere.
My turn to cook.
It's all going round her hips,
Your turn to die for love.
and what her hips enclose;
My turn to resurrect. Albuquerque, 1997
it's all lit up by her face,
her ownerless expression.
And then there's this aching fool
over here, no, over here YOU ARE RIGHT, SAHARA
who thinks that You are right, Sahara. There are no mists, or veils, or distances. But
Seisen's still a woman, the mist is surrounded by a mist; and the veil is hidden behind a
who's trying to find a place to stand veil; and the distance continually draws away from the distance.
where Seisen isn't Dancing. Mt. Baldy, 1997 That is why there are no mists, or veils, or distances. That is why it is
called The Great Distance of Mist and Veils. It is here that The
Traveler becomes The Wanderer, and The Wanderer becomes The
One Who Is Lost, and The One Who Is Lost becomes The Seeker,
and The Seeker becomes The Passionate Lover, and The Passionate
Lover becomes The Beggar, and The Beggar becomes The Wretch,
and The Wretch becomes The One Who Must Be Sacrificed, and The
One Who Must Be Sacrificed becomes The Resurrected One and The the enemy’s dead
Resurrected One becomes The One Who has Transcended The and I don’t have to shoot.
Great Distance of Mist and Veils. Then for a thousand years, or the
rest of the afternoon, such a One spins in the Blazing Fire of But as for the fall:
Changes, embodying all the transformations, one after the other, it was writ long ago
and then beginning again, and then ending again, 86,000 times a and I can’t stop it now ---
second. Then such a one, if he is a man, is ready to love the woman I’m rain and I’m snow.
Sahara; and such a one, if she is a woman, is ready to love the man
who can put into song The Great Distance of Mist and Veils. Is it you And I settle at last
who are waiting, Sahara, or is it I? 1997 on the ground of my soul
in shapes of the past
and shapes that unfold.
SORROWS OF THE ELDERLY
I sit in my chair
The old are kind
and I look at the street --
but the young are hot.
the enemy’s gone
Love may be blind
and his absence is sweet!
but Desire is not.

Mt. Baldy, 1998. I move with the leaves

I shine with the chrome
I’m almost alive
1998 I’m almost at home.

THE GOAL
But please do not follow
I can’t leave my house I’ve nothing to teach:
or answer the phone. except that the goal
I’m going down again falls short of the reach.
but feeling no pain.
March 29, 1998
And that’s the great change
and mercy to boot ---
BOOK OF LONGING
(DEAR READER) The silverware shines
that my mother left
I can’t make the hills
to me when she died
The system is shot
fulfilled and bereft
I’m living on pills
for which I thank G-d My leash is too long
I think that I’m free
There’s sun in the leaves
I’d leap at the young
and birds in the tree.
but I’m sixty-three
Nobody believes
it’s written by Thee.
I know what I want
It took many lives
I used to be song
I’m cured by the cunt
I used to be cock
I’m killed by the eyes
but time is long gone
past my laughingstock
The sorrows are real
as froth on the wave
I bid you good-bye
as shit on the beach
There’s nothing to add
the city’s disgrace
I’ve tried and I try
to stop going mad
Who cares what I say
I’m not who I was
I followed the course
I’m paid what I pay
from chaos to art
I’m always in love
My dick was the horse
my life was the cart
The summer won’t come
‘till I go to bed
I’m back at my desk
The birds will return
(the end of the line)
when the dog is dead
a bee in my breast
a snake in my spine
You can’t say it right I’m clamped in a stock
when you touch yourself to hold my head high
But truth’s not advice
It is total health My animal howls
My angel’s upset
The crap on my back And deep in my bowels
the piss in my face the shit of regret
but happy at last
in the Holy Place You can’t stop a man
from loving too much
You can’t go too deep I’m still licking stamps
if you want to swim from trying it once
where the mermaids weep
out of love for Him My pen is too wet
My ink is too black
I`m nothing but lust The Winner won’t get
I’m nothing but pain his foot on the track
I did these mistrust
but Never Again But the one like me
with light in her eye
I say what I want is utterly free
for I am the Child to crawl or to fly
of G-d coming home
and His Wife gone wild And she’ll know the path
I carved through the pain
I don’t need a thing my will cut in half
I use what I have and Freedom between
a moth-eaten wing
a worm cut in half I’ll meet her one day
when the time is right
With these I invoke for me to display
The Name to draw nigh my flare in the night
 ROSHI AT 89
for the space in space
Roshi's very tired
to cough up the Word
that seals our Embrace he's lying on his bed
unharmed and unheard
He's been living with the living
And Mercy at last and dying with the dead
for one doubled up
and tied to the mast But now he wants another drink
with the flags of love (will wonders never cease?)

And thanks be to you He's making war on war

for helping me out
and he's making war on peace
when Youth had no clue
what’s it all about He's sitting in the throne-room

on his great Original Face

Your kindness is kind
your trueness is true and he's making war on Nothing
I pray that you’ll find
that has something in its place
your Beloved, too
His stomach's very happy
as I have found mine
the prunes are working well
where I’d never look:
in the threaded spine There's no one going to Heaven
of my Longing Book.
and there's no one left in Hell
Los Angeles Mt. Baldy, California, 1996
March 22, 1998
BETTER as when I am in my car
in the darkness of
better than darkness
a parking space
is fake darkness
with a new friend
which swindles you
into necking with
better than art
your neighbor’s daughter
is repulsive art
which is shunned
better than banks
by Hashem
are false banks
and in the ensuing
where you put
hullaballoo
all your rough money
I slip
into legal tender
into broadway theaters
and sit undetected
better than coffee
in the Hadassah section
is blue coffee
which you drink
better than greatness
in your last bath
is silly greatness
or sometimes waiting
which stands me
for your shoes
on the shoulders
to be dismantled
of my garage
the better to
better than poetry
drop all the eggs
is my poetry
into one basket
which refers
to everything
better than memory
that is beautiful and
is tricky memory
dignified, but is
which is the juice
neither of these itself
of patriotism and
national interest
better than wild
and the fall of husbands
is secretly wild
and all the Sad Show
 while mine is dead
better than darkness as a doornail
is darkless
which is inkier, vaster better than me
more profound are you
and eerily refrigerated - kinder than me
filled with caves are you
and blinding tunnels sweeter smarter faster
in which appear you you you
beckoning dead relatives prettier than me
and other religious stronger than me
paraphernalia lonelier than me
I want to get to know you
better than love better and better. 1998
is rove
which is the Japanese
more refined THE DRUNKARD BECOMES GENDER- FREE
smoother
strangely erotic- This morning I woke up again
tiny serene people I thank my Lord for that
with huge genitalia The world is such a pigpen
but lighter than thought That I have to wear a hat
comfortably installed I love the Lord I praise the Lord
on an eyelash of mist I do the Lord forgive
and living grimly I hope I won't be sorry
ever after For allowing Him to live
cooking, gardening
and raising kids I know you like to get me drunk
And laugh at what I say
better than my mother I'm very happy that you do
is your mother I'm lonely every day
who is still alive
I'm angry at the angel
Who pinched me on the thigh
And made me fall in love
With every woman passing by
I know they are your sisters
And your daughters and your wives
But even tho' they live at home
They all lead double lives
It's fun to run to heaven
When you're off the beaten track
But G-d is such a monkey
When you've got Him on your back
G-d is such a monkey
And He's such a woman too
SHe's such a place of nothing
SHe's such a face of you
May SHe crash into your temple
And look out thru' your eyes
And make you fall in love
With everybody you despise
1998
1999
ROSHI
I never really understood
what he said
but every now and then
I find myself
barking with the dog
or bending with the irises
or helping out
in other little ways
At the time of writing Jikan
Leonard Cohen was a monk practicing
at Mt. Baldy Zen Center.
Cohen left the Center in Spring 1999.
S.O.S
Take a long time with your anger,
sleepy head.
Don't waste it in riots.
Don't tangle it with ideas.
The Devil won't let me speak,
will only let me hint
that you are a slave,
your misery a deliberate policy
of those in whose thrall you suffer,
and who are sustained
by your misfortune.
The atrocities over there,
the interior paralysis over here--
Pleased with the better deal?
You are clamped down.
You are being bred for pain.
The Devil ties my tongue.
I'm speaking to you,
'friend of my scribbled life'.
You have been conquered by those
who know how to conquer invisibly.
The curtains move so beautifully,
lace curtains of some
sweet old intrigue:
the Devil tempting me
to turn away from alarming you.
So I must say it quickly.
Whoever is in your life,
those who harm you,
those who help you;
those whom you know
and those whom you do not know --
let them off the hook,
help them off the hook.
Recognize the hook.
You are listening to Radio Resistance.
At the time of writing Jikan
Leonard Cohen was a monk practicing
at Mt. Baldy Zen Center.
RELIGIOUS STATUES
After a while
I started playing with dolls
I loved their peaceful expressions
They all had their places
in a corner of Room 315
I would say to myself:
It doesn’t matter
that you can’t breathe
that you are hopelessly involved
in the panic of the situation -
It is the will of G-d
I’d light a cigarette
and a stick of Nag Champa
Both would burn too fast
in the draft of the ceiling fan
Then I might say
something like:
Thank You
for the terms of my life
which make it so painfully clear
that I am powerless
to control You
and I’d watch CNN
the rest of the night
from a completely different
point of view. 1999
MT. BALDY MONKS
After listening to Mozart
we go around
with pianos
strapped to our backs
THE BEST
India has the best Ice Cream
America has the best Chocolate
England has the best Phlegm
Spain has the best Worms
Italy has the best Mist
Israel has the best Self-Mockery
Canada has the best Light
Mexico has the best Eagles
Portugal has the best Circles
Egypt has the best Paper
Morocco has the best Jews
Japan has the best Creases
I've been to too many countries
I died when I left Montreal
I met women I didn't understand
I pretended to get interested in food
But it was all The Fear of Snow
It was all the Will of G-d
It was all The Heart
swallowing The Other Organs
It was Five Days of Summer
and Two Days of Spring
Mostly it was the Death of my Dog
Sorrow is the time to begin
Longing is the place to rejoice
But I did not begin
Longing is the place to rejoice
But I did not begin
and I did not rejoice
I was lazy in G-d Books lie open all around me
Despite my efforts
they keep coming into my room
And there is a slab of old stone
with cuneiform inscriptions
When I lived in Montreal
I knew what to wear
I had old clothes
and old friends
and my dog had been dead
for only ten or fifteen years
Fortunately there is no space for regret
in the Poverty of these Reflections.
NOT SO FRIENDLY
Not so friendly today,
are you, darling?
I, too, find myself
in a distant mood.
Maybe it's time
to take the long way home,
the back streets
where we will be assaulted
by thugs
because we are rich,
and spit on by old women
who don't like
your bare arms.
Then how about
caramel custard
In that place they know us?
Yes, I'm feeling better
about you, already.
I'm looking forward
to our white hotel room
where the two puppets
can be naked at last,
and in each other's arms,
surrender to the strings. 1999
YOU HAVE LOVED ENOUGH
I came to You with sorrow
You said,"Come to me with bread”.
I could not make a living
You employed me with the dead.
I chose the marble chambers
But You sent me down below.
You kept me from believing
Until You let me know:
That I am not the one who loves
It's Love that seizes me!
When hatred with his package comes,
You forbid delivery.
And when the hunger for Your touch
rises from the hunger,
You whisper, "Child, you've loved enough,
now let Me be the Lover".
Hydra
2000
ALEXANDRA LEAVING
(based on The God Abandons Antony,
a poem by Constantine P. Cavafy)
Suddenly the night has grown colder.
Some deity preparing to depart.
Alexandra hoisted on his shoulder,
they slip between the sentries of your heart.
Upheld by the simplicities of pleasure,
they gain the light, they formlessly entwine;
and radiant beyond your widest measure
they fall among the voices and the wine. Hydra, Greece
September 1999
lt's not a trick, your senses all deceiving,
a fitful dream the morning will exhaust---
Say goodbye to Alexandra leaving, BECAUSE OF A FEW SONGS
Then say goodbye to Alexandra lost.
Because of a few songs
Even though she sleeps upon your satin. wherein I spoke of their
Even though she wakes you with a kiss. mystery,
Do not say the moment was imagined, women have been
Do not stoop to strategies like this. exceptionally kind
to my old age.
As someone long prepared for this to happen, They make a secret place
Go firmly to the window. Drink it in. in their busy lives
Exquisite music, Alexandra laughing. and they take me there.
Your first commitments tangible again. They become naked
in their different ways
You who had the honor of her evening, and they say,
And by that honor had your own restored--- "Look at me, Leonard
Say goodbye to Alexandra leaving. look at me one last time."
Alexandra leaving with her lord. Then they bend over the bed
and cover me up
As someone long prepared for the occasion; like a baby that is shivering.
In full command of every plan you wrecked--- 1999
Do not choose a coward's explanation
that hides behind the cause and the effect,

You who were bewildered by a meaning,

whose code was broken, crucifix uncrossed---
Say goodbye to Alexandra leaving.
Then say goodbye to Alexandra lost.
2000 THE SWEETEST LITTLE SONG
THE CORRECT ATTITUDE You go your way
Except for a couple of hours I’ll go your way too.
in the morning
which I passed in the company
of a sage GOOD ADVICE FOR SOMEONE LIKE ME
I stayed in bed
without food behind the pain
only a few mouthfuls of water someone is rejoicing
you are a fine looking old man
I said to myself in the mirror behind the torture
and what is more there is love
you have the correct attitude
You don’t care if it ends who's going to buy
or if it goes on this bullshit
And as for the women
and the music if you don't become the ocean
there will be plenty of that you'll be seasick
in Paradise every day. 2000.
Then I went to the Mosque
of Memory
to express my gratitude. 1999

MERCY RETURNS ME

A woman I want -
An honour I covet -
A place where I want my mind to dwell -
Then Mercy returns me
To the fretboard
And the problems of the song. 2000.
2001 And Neither The Traffic
Nor The Weather
THOUSANDS
Will Bother You
In The Least.
Out of the thousands You Will Whip Down The 405
who are known, To San Diego
or who want to be known To Pick Up An Acorn
as poets, For Someone's Proverb
maybe one or two And So On And So Forth.
are genuine In Spite Of The Ache
and the rest are fakes, In Your Heart
hanging around the sacred About The Girl You
precincts Never Found
trying to look like the real thing. And The Fact That
Needless to say After Years Of
I am one of the fakes, Spiritual Rigor You Did Not Manage
and this is my story. 2001. To Enlighten Yourself
A Certain Cheerfulness
Will Begin To
A LIFE OF ERRANDS Arise Out Of Your Crushed
Hopes And Intentions.
If You Are Lucky How Thirstily
You Will Grow Old You Embrace Your Next Commission:
And Live To Sift Through The Sunglasses
A Life Of Errands. At A Lost And Found
You Will Discern In Las Vegas
What People Need Just A Few Hours
And Provide It Across The Desert.
Before They Ask. Your Hair Is White
You Will Drive Your Car You Have Breasts
Here And There And A Gut
Delivering And Fetching Over Your Belt
You Are No Longer A Boy,
Or Even A Man
But A Sense Of Gratitude
Enlivens Every Move You Make.
Yes, Sir, These Are The
Very Gold-Rimmed Pair
She Left In The Plastic Tray
Beside The Dollar Slot Machines.
No, Sir, I Am Not Lying.

December 31, 1999

THE FLOOD

The flood it is gathering

Soon it will move

Across every shoreline

Against every roof

The body will drown

And the soul will shake loose

I write all this down

But I don’t have the proof

Israel 1973