August 26, 2016
Is Grief a Waiting
You hear the strange cricket in the oven sing, and ask what it sings. This is what it sings. —Frank Bidart, “The Third Hour of the Night” […]
August 24, 2016
Poetry and Origin
Through the lens of Khaled Mattawa’s “History of My Face” and through the lens of Camille Rankine’s “Genealogy,” I’ve been thinking about poems as explorations of origins. When we think of “origin […]
August 19, 2016
Orchids We Have Been: On the Transformative Power of Longing
August 5, 2016
Ghost Stories, Systems
Between sad, hateful blats from Trump’s trumpet and the usual political dogwhistles came the (largely unheard in national mainstream media) dirges for three (more) Black women killed, in the words […]
July 12, 2016
Identity In Flux: On Jewishness & Poetry
In late 2014, I asked six different poets of various ages and backgrounds questions about Jewish identity and poetry. I had answered some questions about poetry and faith on The Best […]
July 1, 2016
On Passing and Whiteness: Jewish Poets Speak Out
In late 2014, I asked six different poets of various ages and backgrounds questions about Jewish identity and poetry. I had answered some question about poetry and faith on The […]
June 28, 2016
A Real Kind of Sublime
We look at alien grace, unfettered by any determined form, and we say: balloon, flower, heart, condom, opera, lampshade, parasol, ballet. Hear how the mouth, so full of longing for […]
May 30, 2016
Peace is a Bus that Has No Destination
…for history has yet to start and there’s no geography and no other languages. And even better: the war has left its “r” behind and turned into love, so the […]
May 28, 2016
A Good Immunity is Everything
There might be only us In a room My love and I But that is fine What eyes are left for me Anyway what other eyes are left […]
May 23, 2016
Forget I Said It
According to a recent essay in the New York Times, Americans feel pretty awful on Mondays. Google searches for “depression” and “anxiety” are at their highest; searches for “jokes” are […]
May 21, 2016
The joy that has no stem nor core
The joy that has no stem nor core, Nor seed that we can sow, Is edible to longing, But ablative to show. By fundamental palates Those products are preferred Impregnable […]
May 16, 2016
What a Wicked Game
I have come a long way, to surrender my shadow To the shadow of a horse —James Wright, “Sitting in a small screenhouse on a summer morning” You finish this […]