When I came to America
as a boy I had to cross
fallow land between
languages, transforming
words and stories without
abandoning their memories,
now I can no longer tell
which ones were born to
the mother tongue.
George Salamon has sat between the chairs of German and English since he was 14.
Snow covers up the
letters of the alphabet,
preserving for the moment
the purity of words and
sentiments underneath.
George Salamon is trying to maintain his sense of wonder as an octogenarian.
As night stands high above day
and evening far from morning,
there’s light, flower, bush and tree,
the hidden world order, while
the rest is vapors.
George Salamon lives. endures and writes in St. Louis, MO.
After it was all over
and the sun and stars
had come up and gone
down for the last time.
we sat down together
and decided to wait and
watch what was on next.
George Salamon hopes that when it comes, it will be as funny as” Dr. Strangelove.”