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SAINTS AND SINNERS
I am a distant grandchildof saints and Herod,kings and lords, andVisigoths for good measure. That half of me iswoven of ever thinnerbranches on a treethat threatens to topplefrom the lightnessof its other side, rootsdeep in the rich soilof Lithuania, the rootshitting bedrock, andthe branches stuntedand there a simpleAshkenazi Jew.
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GO TO YOUR ROOM
When a petulant childacts out badly, a parentwill send the childto a corner, to his room,for a “time out”the duration of whichdepends on the child’soffense and demeanor. What are we to dowhen the child hasno parents, answersto no one, even his adultchildren, where can we,the observers go, whatcan we do except cringein horror knowing thischild…
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UNKNOWABLE
How often have wesat in pews, on the zafuand heard an enrobedman or woman say“Let me describe for you”that which cannot bedescribed, that whichis beyond mere words. We would be better servedto just sit in silenceand hear deeply whatwe need, not empty wordsmeant to lead, to mislead,for you God does not speakand you cannot claim…
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UNGAN SWEEPS THE GROUND
When you are cleaning,what becomes of the dirt?When you are bathing,what becomes of the water?When you exhale,what becomes of the breath?When the moon disappearsis the moon truly gone?When you ask your teacher,what becomes of the question?If you sit quietly on the matand do not think of this,what becomes of you? A reflection on Case 21…
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GOOD RIDDANCE
I still marvel at the waythe mind can rewritethe narrative arc of memories,taking away sharp edges,eroding or erasing sometoo painful to relive, andbringing others outfrom deep storage, somelargely forgotten, to bebattled with in dreams,demons wrestled to submission. In my dreams I have hada final conversation withmy step-sibling, whotold me of my father’sdeath in a text…
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MUCH, AND MORE
There is muchyou ought to do,there is muchyou could do,there is muchthat needs to be done,there is muchyou might do,there is muchthat you left undone,and you know thisbut on this dayyou have chosento spend too muchtime in thoughtand composingthis sadexcuse for a poem.
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YOUNGER MAN BLUES
Going through files of photosI occasionally see a younger manwho is someone I should know. He doesn’t appear often, and Iam fairly certain I was neverthe photographer whenthose photos were taken. He is rather short, often seemsto wear a hat, is otherwiserather nondescript. Still, I would like to talkto him, as I suspect we wouldagree…
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JIZO’S NOT KNOWING IS THE MOST INTIMATE
When you comebefore your teacherand he asks youwhat is it exactlythat you are looking for,what is it that youexpect finally to attain,how will you answer him?If you say you are seekingenlightenment, he will laughand send you away,but if you answerthat you do not know,he will hand youan empty bowland tell you to go fill it.…
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WORDS, WORDS, WORDS
They can have sharp edgesthat wound on contact, some cutsso deep they leave lasting scars. They can get stuck in the throatuntil you feel you can no longerbreathe, no longer cry out for help. They can lie there, anaggregate always acretingand yet rejecting any meaning. Or they can, carefully chosenpresent great beauty, offerhope, promise freedom.…
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PFFFT
As I age now I amaware that the tetherto my earliest memorieshas grown thin, stretchedby time until I know it will,of necessity, soon give way. And so I spend sparemoments trying to sortthrough my life as I recallit, selecting those momentsthat bear the effort of retetheringso that time would be betterserved weakening others. But the…
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an old writer and his words 