Soaring out into the sky

Her father was a world-renowned yodeler from Switzerland; and her mother played electric guitar in a heavy metal band; but the child was born mute and would cringe at even the slightest noise. Considered a freak and largely ignored, she kept to her bedroom, magically bringing shadow-birds to life and sending them soaring out into… Continue reading Soaring out into the sky

Prayer book party ’22

An Israeli tradition On Friday, our daughter's first grade class had their siddur (prayer book) party, which is considered a milestone for Orthodox Jewish children in Israel. Our daughter's school is unusual in Israel in that half the student body identifies as religious (Orthodox) and the other half identify as non-religious (i.e., secular), unlike the… Continue reading Prayer book party ’22

The Quintilla, or: Form verses creativity

Sangeetha & David's new poetry project Once upon a time, two poets who'd never met in person spontaneously began writing verses back and forth to one another over the Internet. Their first poetry project took them some nine months: a 100 verse Hyakuin. Once they'd completed their oeuvre, the two decided to continue their creative… Continue reading The Quintilla, or: Form verses creativity

The language of my home, or: Ruined

Sevenling (Russian was) Russian was always the language of my home and continues to be cuz my wife's from Russia; it's opened doors for me; it's broadened my world. Over the past decade, I've educated Russian speakers; visited family and friends in Russia; discovered Russian folk rock music by Otava Yo. Has Putin ruined all… Continue reading The language of my home, or: Ruined

To claim, or: Set afire

A "Waltz" poem Inspired by the iambic trimeter of 'My Papaโ€™s Waltz' by Theodore Roethke I've Russian relatives who dance to Putin's hype, minds strained through grotesque sieves 'til nothing's left but tripe. The music they step to flows out through State channels; for them, his version's 'True' - straight from Kremlin annals. They're made… Continue reading To claim, or: Set afire

Controlled temperature, or: Swimming pool

A haibun I am not prone to extreme emotions, tending to be fairly even-keeled, although I must confess to the occasional outburst of frustration. Rarely do I experience what I would call joy, which I perceive as a very powerful emotion, related to but distinct from happiness and contentment. Joy, for me, comes at moments… Continue reading Controlled temperature, or: Swimming pool

South of Ukraine, or: Not by Russia

My 1st Sparrowlet South of Ukraine... not by Russia... Stuck in Moldova... Gosh, such a frustrating and unforeseen pain that my wife is there and thus - a traveler stranded with no plane... Not by Russia... South of Ukraine... d'Verse prompt: The Sparrowlet At d'Verse, poets were prompted to try their hands at constructing sparrowlets:… Continue reading South of Ukraine, or: Not by Russia

Unfamiliar, or: Piercing

A haibun Nearly one year after my father died, I wrote the following: Disconcertingly out of sync, perceptions jumbled, receptors misfiring, I remain immediately near but never fully within the self Iโ€™d always known, receiving on an unfamiliar, piercing wavelength.Slowly, slowly, I have come to understandthis: My pulse has been attuned to loss.-Me, The Skeptic's… Continue reading Unfamiliar, or: Piercing