Memories by Mel Goldberg

Mel Goldberg’s memories range widely, from the intensely personal lines of “DNR” (and I held his hand/until the wheezing ended.) to the imagined experience of a converso, a crypto-Jew, touched by a deeply buried past he hadn’t fully recognized as his own (Juan Montoya hides behind solidity of doors/and shuns transparency of windows./He eats no pork.) As different from one another as they may be, however, Goldberg’s memories (and, occasionally, the remnants of what is forgotten) have this in common: each poem strikes a universal chord sure to resonate with the not-so-different remembrances that each reader brings to this compelling collection.

–Kenneth Salzmann, Author of The Last Jazz Fan and Other Poems

In this slim volume of 27 poems, memories are no palliative to Mel Goldberg’s dread of the inevitable nor are they comfort in reflection for they are indelibly tainted with heartbreak and loss and a family history of concentration camps. Though the collection ends on an upbeat, do not expect the typical wit we think of as characteristic of Goldberg’s poetry. Shimmering moments are the lovingly rendered portraits of several family members including his grandmother, father, and mother from Sheffield.  

–Margaret Van Every, poet.  Author of A Pillow Stuffed with Diamonds, Saying Her Name, and holding hands with a stranger.