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HOLDING ON
There comes that one moment for each who liveswhen he steps out onto the silent stage,speaks such of the lines as he recalls, givesa half-intended bow, and in his rage curses his lost youth like over-aged wine,that is now a shadow of its promiseand he knows that somehow this is a signnot of what he…
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A LITTLE DRUMMER
It seems less than fair that as a childI was Jewish to the core, adopted, yes,but certainly fully Jewish and not merelyby maternal lineage which would suffice. Christmas was alien to me then, evenwhen I left Judaism behind, a shadowthat would follow me closely intomy Buddhist practice and life. But DNA made a liar of…
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NO BACKS
As you age, your vision changes,and not merely that of your eyes,for you necessarily becomenear sighted about many things. Of course you dread the fact that youcould be myopic if circumstancesconspire against you, barely ableto be IN and remember the moment. Even those healthy take to mythology,and astronomy, wishing they wereTitan, living life in retrograde,…
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ANTISOCIAL MEDIA
The meaning is simple,a data point here,another there,an image,an algorithmwords writtenin jest,in anger,regret,withdrawal,cancellation,account closed,remaining shadows,way back,pixels always moving,real friendsonce touched,I aman avatar to you,I have erasedyou from memory.
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RECALL
As you sit in your suburban homes,by the pools at your country clubs,in your vacation resort villas, tryfor the sake of the patriarchsand matriarchs of our faith, to rememberthat we were the poor, we werethe huddled masses, we yearnedto breathe free, we the tempest tossed. Remember the tenementsof the Lower East Side,the sweat shops, the…
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MARCH ON
We marched regularly, often carring placards,this week against an insane warin a place we had no busines being,next week for the racial justicepromised for a century but never delivered,and then for the ecology, trying to savethe world that our parents promisedfor us as little children and failedto provide, choking through the smogand the teargas, scraping…
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STONE
Just outside townin the old dump isa slab of concreteits twisted edges piercedby rusting rebaronce the floorof the gazebo in the commons.Etched into its surfaceJim + MarieJanet Loves Eddie.Their loves were undyingcast into stone to wearslowly through the agesnot to fall victimto the jackhammer.Jim lies underthe simple stone“Sgt. U. S. ArmyServed Vietnam,”Marie left for collegebut…
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THE HOUSE ON PEABODY
It was brick, red I am told.on a quiet street not farfrom 16th Street and its traffic.It was small, but a good homefor a couple with a child or twoin the heart of the District. I have no recollection of it,save the tile, black and whitein the bathroom, the radiatoron which I hit my head,and…
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BEST LEFT UNSAID
You need not apologize, for wedo not expect it, and wouldnot accept it as freely given. It is not that you have notdone so much to warrant it,for that list is long and repletewith all manner of sins. It is simply that we are notin a mood to accept an apology,denied so long, for hollow…
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TRIPTYCH
A triptych hangs in the gallery of memory. Admission is by invitation only. The first panel is a time fogged mirror into which I stare. The adopted image hides behind the tarnished silver. My adopted mother’s voice is heard from a hidden speaker: “You were named after my father.” I want to tape his picture…
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an old writer and his words 