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UNTO TARSHISH
In this place there is a fatted, sacrificial silence. It is the large Jewish Cemetery nestling the road where Maryland and the District are loosely stitched together. It is a small plot goldenrod dirt outskirting Lisbon. This ground is sacred not for the blessing of one who has taken the tallit of holiness. The sanctity…
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APPROACHING NOW
I’ll be there soon, so hang in there just a bit longer. I do want to meet the beautiful young woman you mentioned in our calls, or is there more than one, because while your vision is supposed to be good, it seems almost all women younger than a certain ever-increasing age are now beautiful…
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ARF
Sitting on the fourth shelf from the top, in the second rank of bookcases in my office is a somewhat worn copy Dylan Thomas is “Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog.” I can’t admit to ever having read it, or an ability to now recall if I did, but I know I’ve had…
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TIME’S ARROW CURSED
He will be 90 in a few weeks. He doesn’t think this is possible. He says he wasn’t supposed to live this long. He asks again how old he is. You’re still 89, I tell him. He has a relieved look on his face. Then he smiles at me, says, that means you are…
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an old writer and his words 