You have to know
who to talk to:
choose a dry
All night long I
wrestled with an angel — his face
A man swings through the open doors on crutches,
his long arms thick with muscle like the Christ
They come together to bury their father
in the cave where Sarah’s body lies.
I have always believed in the alchemy of letters
but never in their permanence.
When Noah prayed
You sent him a flood
and charged him with the safety
of all animal life.
Yes, it’s true, I’ve lost
The world you gave me,
The blue and luminous world
The students glisten with youth. Every one of them is beautiful.
It’s time to talk about grief
as if the mere mention could
crack the sky leaving the stars
to break through shattering
Lord quite innocent of what it is to live
bound in paper, bound in steel,
bound in the incredible ignorance supplied
by irony and suffering — how are You?
like a skin on milk
I write to you
Yes, I hear talk
as I walk the Old City
from Jaffa Gate
a new lay upon this lute for You
I take her to the park, I swing her in the little swing
Help her on the slide, lotion her face and arms against the sun
She runs around in her little bluejeans
Blessed is the mattress on which they feast.
ten at a time we carried them
by their legs
to cages on the truck
1. The absence of Presence
The Romans are approaching. We wallow in callous pettiness. The city will fall soon.
Blue plums of Safad
in the moonlight
glowing as plump and round
as the sacred sefirot
Every time we mention the dead
I feel their weight on the mattress
indentations — never been flipped.
My Bubbie mumbles a Yiddish invective every time I mention
I wish I could become a Buddhist...
I came late to sunrise. The hills were lit
with goats. Everything shimmered in
small steps. I closed my eyes.
Let the coffee pot and the crows,
let the car horns and the upstairs neighbors.
Salt into meat
saw it all in the mirror
God is here today. She is a spectacular god...
I fail. Every morning shade drawn,
those numbers on your forearm you don’t try to hide them
I had a dinner with a woman mad
“Behold days are coming, says the Lord…and they shall rebuild.” From our Haftarah this Shabbat Amos 9:13
Near the Atlantic Ocean, past the last subway station,
This poem first appeared in the Winter 2011 issue of BLIP Magazine (now New World Writing). It was reprinted in the collection “Pointed Sentences” (BlazeVOX, 2012).
How do you measure anything — count your deaths, who loves you, who loves you knot.
This poem by Patty Seyburn was commissioned for the reopening of the newly renovated Temple Israel, in Long Beach, and will be read in fully by Seyburn at the temple on March 9. For information: click here.
Gunter Grass, Germany's Nobel Prize-winning author, has published another poem criticizing Israeli policy.
American author Dave Eggers said he will not travel to Germany to accept a literary prize from the Gunter Grass Foundation.
German literary giant Gunter Grass said Israel's decision to bar him entry following publication of his controversial poem resembles the behavior of a dictatorship.
Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu blasted a German poet who wrote that Israel is a threat to world peace.
Daniel Pearl’s murder by terrorists was made public on Feb. 21, 2002. Author Judea Pearl is a professor at UCLA, president of the Daniel Pearl Foundation (danielpearl.org) and a co-editor of “I Am Jewish: Personal Reflections Inspired by the Last Words of Daniel Pearl” (Jewish Lights, 2004), winner of the National Jewish Book Award.
The Knesset Ethics Committee suspended Israeli-Arab lawmaker Ahmed Tibi after he attacked a fellow lawmaker with an insulting poem.
I come to a land that calls me home Pulled in by the suns of August. On each visit, the eyes utter the same words: Electric. Messy. Miracle.
When the New Reform Congregation [now Temple Kol Tikvah in Woodland Hills] was established in 1984, Debbie was our chazzan for 3 years. She responded, and the congregation was thrilled, as truly “the old dreamed new dreams and the youth saw visions.” Our shul was “alive to the sound of music” to Debbie's presence and her music. Debbie gave voice to the voiceless through her voice and her passion for justice.
Best friends Chana Bloch and Chana Kronfeld argue occasionally. Most often their disputes involve commas, line breaks and word connotations.
The song was written for Micha Shagrir's documentary film "Mirdaf", during the War of Attrition (1968-1970). It describes the military situation along the Jordan border when PLO raids against Israel, followed by IDF chases after the perpetrators, became a daily routine. The song was first performed by Chava Alberstein, to music by Nahum Haiman (this year's recipient of Israel's Prize) and can be heard on you-tube (search for Mirdaf).
Writer (and singer) Hannah Friedman stayed up all night to bring us this song
Enjoy this poem by Sinai Akiba fifth-grader Shana Saleh as you munch on
Albert Einstein was a very smart man -- probably one of smartest people of all time.
It begins as 100,000 Jews amassed last Saturday evening in the streets of Jerusalem to protest Prime Minister Ariel Sharon's plan to pull 7,500 Jewish settlers out of the Gaza Strip and thousands more, eventually, from the West Bank. Protesters whose placards called Sharon a traitor were told to take them down -- but that didn't make the sentiment any less apparent. To be blunt, civil war is in the air.
For The Kids
A child's poem to celebrate Jerusalem Day
For The Kids
In Old English, the month of November was called "blood month." It was a month of animal sacrifices that took place to prepare for the long winter.
There are a lot of new things in our lives.
Based on "How the Grinch Stole Christmas". (With apologies to Dr. Seuss)