Smoked fish, an omelet station. It was a bar mitzvah
but only the grandparents were invited
and the child may just have died.
We wore on our...
November 5, 2014 | 2:42 pm
This fallen child, whose empty eyes
mourning could not harmonize,
nor the reaching requiem
contain the wood enclosing him
slips from the circled reach of eyes
without a jolt, without surprise,
whose stuttered step has stumbled in
to words that now embroider him.
Published in Blue Unicorn magazine.
October 29, 2014 | 3:24 pm
October 14, 2014 | 1:07 pm
October 7, 2014 | 2:06 pm
October 3, 2014 | 2:39 pm
It is customary to pound one's SHIFT Key as we recite each line:
We know our Apple better than the apple of our eye.
We think that B...
October 1, 2014 | 12:48 pm
September 23, 2014 | 12:13 pm
September 17, 2014 | 1:36 pm