Memories, or: Dreams

My 2nd blank verse EPIGRAPH: We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they’re called memories. Some take us forward, they’re called dreams.–Jeremy Irons (b. 1948) ... regret and failure, hopelessness against bulwark stubborn the generation's this; responding before breathe and pause; pain and anger the stifle and, kiss, hug, smile shall I; do… Continue reading Memories, or: Dreams

Regret, or: More often

A rispetto I often relive my mistakes. I often sense life has no point. I often think I'm being too fake. No one's left for me to disappoint. I often curse under my breath. I often imagine my death. I often feel I'm not worth shit. More often than I'd like to admit.

Mourners relate to mourners

On a bright Thursday in August of 2014, my wife and I attended a beautiful Israeli wedding. It was a lovely outdoor wedding at 'the Moshav'. We still remember the year of the event because it so happened that my wife was pregnant with our daughter at the time. The chuppah (wedding canopy) The bride… Continue reading Mourners relate to mourners