Ori Fienberg


They care nothing for your hat;
worry about your head.

Poetry has its own blood
by reading it we are covered.

The foam that slips from the mug
is only as important as the beer left in the mug.

A fly trapped among these stanzas
transforms into a butterfly.



In an infinite sack rice
practices smiles for itself.

The darkest ages write with invisible
ink the stories which we already know.

The mountains of Caracas tell beauty
how the rose prepares for every day.

Critics and fleas bite because
they wish they could feel the itch.



Voluptuous  crocodiles live only in Australia:
other crocodiles are more sleek and shy.

Each orange tree has many
solar systems, each orange is a sun.

Salt’s teeth come from the bite of a bitter mouth,
but the kiss started sweet.

A black condor is one of many nights
which flies over all countries at some point.

Please note that the above poems are responses to corresponding passages in Pablo Neruda’s Book of Answers.

Poems from this sequence have appeared in ZiN Daily, Neologism Poetry, and Always Crashing. Ori Fienberg’s poetry, essays, and short stories can be found in Essay Daily, Pank, Diagram, Passages North, and Subtropics. Read more at ori.fienberg.com.

JD Thornton