DD 9/4/07 DAVID SHEVIN POEM

This poem is by one of my favorite poets, my brother David Shevin. The poem is about my great uncle Harry, who I knew as a sweet old man much loved by some of the surfers who had moved into his apartment building in Venice, CA in the 1960's who helped him shop every week and who helped him out when he needed to get medical attention. I remember walking on the beach with him in Venice having old Jewish ladies and young guys with surfboards come up to talk with us. Harry was a news junkie - his friends counted on him to tell them what was going on in Vietnam, and in national politics.



The Dancing Blind Jewish Communist
David Shevin
Mom’s story was about taking Cousin Phyllis
to Hebrew School, and seeing trembling Harry
appear in the doorway. Ah, Harry. Harry
who would not see his daughter exposed to any
of that boorgee God opiate, Harry who was the true
family Bolshevik, who took off for California
where my brother looked him up. How could anyone
live in such squalor as the shack he had near
Venice Beach? Grandpa Sam was sending him
money, mom insisted. Red Harry, legally blind,
resented the visits from Jewish Family Services.
He was fine, fine, he said, and needed no help.
But after the Nixon age was over he troubled
at providing for himself, and fainted sometimes,
so he let the doctors admit him to the Jewish Home.
Oh, but he was stubborn! mom sputtered,
agitated still at the agitator, Sam’s brother
wild spirit overthrowing tradition
right onto the hot ember of workerstate,
producers owning means of production,
to each according to his need. Harry
could not see but held a picture in his hand.
It looked just like the picture in his heart. He kissed
the silly spirit world just like the dreams of this life
like it was a taste of the sweet orange sugar flesh
of ripe cantaloupe, like the bright touch
of a kite on an air current. You have to stay still,
said the doctors when they tested him on admission.
His mind would jump like his butt would sit,
and his feet would move and move. Now the picture
in his hand was a fine and prancing filly,
or a woman draped in silk. And what was this wrapping
that was his body? There was a dance
being held at the Home, said mom, and your Uncle Harry
was not going to mind his blood pressure
if there was a dance going on.
-2-
I never met Harry, but I know this is in the family line:
Harry the blind Jewish Communist left this earth
dancing, dancing like there was no tomorrow
and there was no tomorrow and he slapped at his knees
and he threw his head back and how did the music
in the air feel? No more oppression’s chains shall bind us!
Humongous! Ocean smell