Blank stare, or: Unmade choices

A piece of Tanka Prose supine form in bed motionless, but for deep breaths eyelids flutter rapidly unmade choices lived again blank stare up at white ceiling I don’t take care of myself very well. My sleep schedule is ridiculously inconsistent; some nights I only sleep three hours; other nights, I may sleep for ten.… Continue reading Blank stare, or: Unmade choices

Steel sky, or: Desert summers

A piece of Tanka Prose stoic behind wheel multiple backseat drivers steel sky glints at dawn desert summer sears highways air conditioning cools heads This week, both yesterday and tomorrow, I am on site visits for work; and I am the designated driver. Yesterday's site visits were wonderful. It's inspirational to see some of the… Continue reading Steel sky, or: Desert summers

Morning fog, or: Life insurance

A haibun My new job at The Jewish Agency comes with lots of perks. When I was first offered the position, I was excited about having long-term job security; writing for a living; and working for a major Jewish organization that I'd long had an affinity for (my wife and I met in 2010 as… Continue reading Morning fog, or: Life insurance

Aubade, or: Love requited

A blues stanza Thursday night at my 'puter, watch'n skies brighten, Still at my 'puter when it start'n to brighten, I scowl t'ward the window as it lets tha light in. If I don' go to bed, I won' be getting no shut-eye, Too many nights I been getting no shut-eye, Tired in tha daytime...… Continue reading Aubade, or: Love requited

Shiner, or: Lover

Poetry Partners #9 'Shiner', a poem by Eric Erb of 'erbiage' What do you mean you don’t know how to rise and shine? Every morning the sun shows you! Just be as you are The world will turn towards you Eric Erb: https://erbiage.wordpress.com/ An atom poem by ben Alexander of ‘The Skeptic’s Kaddish’ sunup glaring… Continue reading Shiner, or: Lover

Back then, or: Hours later

Sevenling (Hazy wisps of) Hazy wisps of last night's dream sequences lit upon the faintest glimmers of reflections swirling around fantasies beyond the reaches of my consciousness. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes this morning; savored the aroma of my coffee with a contented sigh; stepped out and breathed in Jerusalem's crisp autumn air.… Continue reading Back then, or: Hours later

Coffee, or: Ambrosia

My 1st copla real One point at the back of my head That is where all the caffeine goes I quiver, held up by a thread Until thick dark ambrosia flows Without which I'd rather be dead Lethargy and feebleness spread My mind convulsing in dry throes Running late is what I most dread While… Continue reading Coffee, or: Ambrosia