Lali Tsipi Michaeli (Israel)

Lali Tsipi Michaeli (Israel)

Lali Tsipi Michaeli is an international Israeli poet. Born in Georgia in 1964. She immigrated to Israel at the age of seven. She has published six poetry books so far. Her poems have been translated into 25 languages. Attended international poetry events in New York, Georgia, Italy France, Romania and India. She was part of a residency program for talented writers in New York at 2018.

Her books have been translated into foreign languages. Soon her book “The Mad House” will be published in NYC. Lali was defined by Prof. Gabriel Moked in his book as “Erotico-Urban Poet” and was highly regarded by critics, who consider her as an innovative and combative. Lali talks in her poems about the state of the world and man in our age. On the loneliness of man in the technological age. In her apocalyptic poem, published in a political literary journal YEHI, she spares no rage and reproach and positions herself as a prophet of fury. In 2011 Lali conducted an anthology for protest “Resistance”, in which she presents her personal poetic manifesto, claiming that “poetry as a whole is a revolt.” In the past decade, Lali has created 15 Poetry Video Art that have taken part in world poetry festivals such as ZEBRA in Berlin, where she reads her poems in public spaces, expanding the circle of poetry consumers. “The poem is not purely purely individual. It is common ground and should be heard in a great voice,” the poet claims.

Lali teaches Hebrew at Ben Gurion University. She has one son and lives in Tel Aviv by the sea.


Barefoot in the world
I escaped into the world
to embrace the true history
that rests behind the front
how fickle it is to say History
when every place is intertwined with a different time component
like it is wrong to say –
all the women are Marias
and all the men Michelangelo
I spend some time among the graves
the walls
the sculptures
myths yearnings and art about
curling up in eternity
under heavy surveillance
and for a substantial fee
I don’t remember how many times I was lost
wandering through Venice?
Between stone houses, sacred to Christians
to stone houses, sacred to Jews
forced into cinnamon alleys
that lead me, eventually
to my identity
like the Star of David
crucified in language
to the gaze on the water bus
to the dead memory
Let’s forget about the dead for a while
death does their PR professionally
let’s focus on us
the lost
the defenseless
those with no answers
crazy with doubts
who cut off their arm
pluck their hair
those who peel off their skin in a globe-like circle
falling into the trap of life
Garbage garbage
humans, deviously,
project their weaknesses unto animals
growing a belly of secrets
crumpling paper
throw themselves at the wall
push their head forward
like drunken horses
biting the playing fingers
in the other’s C in order to see themselves
those who unpick seams that don’t fit the decree
who weigh themselves after feces
who insert in their bodies drugs medication vitamins
to be rescued
from taking control over life
to get drunk
to lose painlessly
Crying in a street that speak another language
laughing in a square like those in your
taking pictures of landscapes covered with the heads of tourists
what do they all want
why are they here
why don’t I
stop walking all the time
ha? And where
where do I go from here
Translated from Hebrew by Maayan Eitan

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