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CENTER SEAT
My friends have often wondered aloudwhy I claim to be most creative whenI am stuck on an airplane for hours. I have told them that the solitude,the lack of It is an interesting quirkof the internet, that birthand death are disconnected. Seeking out those born todayI found a long list, the dinosauramong which is Judy…
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UNCLE
My uncle writes his journalin cramped Yiddish, Englishwill not do, it lacks the wordshe says, to describe his world. He describes the flavorof the capon left to stewon the stove, the sweet tasteof carrots and prunes. He carefully notes the thumbof the butcher sliding ontothe back of the scale, applyingjust a dollar of pressure. He…
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REMEMBER THIS
He awoke this morning, and wassurprised to be there, he said,because when you are ninety,and can’t get around at all,you don’t look forward to tomorrow,for it will simply be a repeatof today when nothing will happen.And it is harder still, he says,because he can’t remember much anymore,so it’s hard to say if todayis any different…
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WANDER WHY
The path meandered more than he rememberedbut he was the first to admithis memory was never his strongest suit.It didn’t help that he had consumedtwo margaritas at lunch, and even hedidn’t believe the excuse that this wasa slow day for him, still sober at two in the afternoon.But he wandered the path, for thatis what…
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HISTORY
Deep in the valley of memoryon the altar of Areswe sacrifice them, always youngeach generation we areAbraham unrestrained,the pardon always moments late.We are Olmecs, relying noton the sun’s passagebut on a mainspring tightly wound.Our gods hunger and mustbe sated lest we lose favorand their image change. In our boneyardpriests and victimsslowly decomposefade into earthwashed deepby…
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HAIL AND FAREWELL
On very dreary daysI like to drive through the cemeterymeandering among the stonesuntil I find a freshly dug grave.I stop, under the vigilant eyeof the caretaker and carefully placea cassette of Dvorak’s Slavonic Dancesor Smetana’s Die Moldau into the player.As the melodies spill forthI hope they lift the spiritof the resting, bringing them a momentof…
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DEMENTIA
He can remember it as though it was just yesterday. Actually it was just yesterday, but for him that had little to do with memory. Bits of his childhood would come flooding back: the city, the cousins who took him in for the few dollars his mother could offer. But his grandsons are a vague…
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KIKE
Third grade, religious school kikes, us, then a backhand raised, drawn, quickly dropped, below a reddened face, sleeve pulled up 145233 in black between elbow and wrist and a tear, perched fearing to fall. Never again, and nothing more, later, same arm ruffling hair, smoke clinging to aging skin, no older when he walked in…
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KAFKA
June 13, 1896, Prague a warm day, old stone schul you stood before the minyon wearing the skullcap repeating ancient words that lay on paper, rehearsed sounding false on a tongue swollen in anxiety. Your tallit, white woven with blue threads hung at your knees fringe fingered, rolled and unrolled, twisted until touched to skin…
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MOBIUS STRIP
You imagine tomorrow will arrive without warning or notice, and even though you are skeptical, you accept the possibility, and if it doesn’t arrive what are the odds you will miss it? If, as expected, it arrives, what the hell, it was supposed to do that so nothing is odd about it, and if not,…
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an old writer and his words 