there was no need to be told
of the jewish custom whereby
rocks are placed near graves
instead of flowers (eg lilies

in the place of the barracks
we found an ocean of stones –
larger than a fist smaller
than a child’s head just big

enough to force one to walk
more slowly than normal & to
think with each step about
a person who has passed on

nothing is expected of us
except understanding (& an
opening towards knowledge –
like the burgers of dachau

whom american troops forced
to march through these gas
chambers saying look! look
this happened in your town

rocks grow in every country
this world is filled with
graves – one day they will
return us to the rivers &

smooth our sharp edges over
centuries of soothing (easy
for me to say on windy days
i think of anton music who

drew pictures of his living
hell in charcoal & who is
known today as the “dachau
artist” born in slovenia &

a student of fine arts in
venice arrested & sent here
only for his talents to be
rediscovered it’s chilling

but necessary to look upon
his ghost lines of tangled
limbs & to know his words:
“we are not the last ones”

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