Jerusalem, or: Anywhere

A Descort Poem The wind rattles hilly Jerusalem. Though Papa loved its hills, he is not in the rattling wind. Pedestrians walk; bikers ride; and drivers drive up and down Jerusalem's renowned hills entirely unaware that he once lived... here. I do not believe he is floating around windy Jerusalem. Or anywhere. Eschewing unreason, my… Continue reading Jerusalem, or: Anywhere

This heart, or: This mind

My 1st puente In the form of two envelope quintets This heart has no other blood known than flowed through all past generations linked one-by-one through space and time by ancient Hebrew conversations echoing through flesh and bone ~ ever more so as I've grown ~ This mind has grasped that nothing's known though men… Continue reading This heart, or: This mind