I slumped in front of a massive desk, a passive patient corroded with failure and dread.
my father holds his favorite drink
Her brown eyes, how a fig considers itself.
Listen to me: I know the winter gloom in mid-summer…
My grandmother asked, “Does it feel like being widowed?”
I am still waiting for the lion
and then her eyes fully opened — blazed through with strands of mud
the man is stayed bent over the canvas of my sofa. the man is me the man is him self and I bring down the whip…
Lights on the dashboard spell out “You still can’t kiss me”
The sin is existing.
The collective failure of ethical standards
Now that the Israeli has left, it falls on me to make the salad.
Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time
you know that baby swallows make silver ripples in wild rivers to court reeds?
I have observed, the theorist I am
I myself should never have been born
There is so little left of the tomato plants.
Live the rest of your life from one worst case to another.
We found in his suitcase T-shirts, his siddur, gifts he bought for his grandchildren…