A Choka ground temperature at depths greater than ten feet stays relatively constant through the course of time please bury me deep in Earth's comfortable bosom a warm welcoming spa-like decomposition muscles loosening lying horizontally limbs and back at rest and still mine to enjoy finally Choka? The most intricate Japanese Poetry form is the… Continue reading After, or: My time
"When does winter begin?" my seven-year-old asks me this evening. "Well," I smile, "technically, it starts in December, which is just around the corner." Funny thing is, she already knows this - but she likes to talk just for the sake of talking; and she likes to get others talking too. The on-again-off-again rains in… Continue reading Seas, or: Sees
Blank verse in iambic heptameter 80 doesn't even burn, but I'm drinking 94, feeling its sting against my throat before the smooth warmth spreads; soothing, relaxing; though nothing like the pounding, scalding water on my shoulders, back and buttocks just earlier. Sitting in my yeti hide fleece pajamas afterwards, I thought to describe the sensation… Continue reading Kentucky, or: Jerusalem
A haibun I exit in the early evening; and my city is aglow in warm sunlight. I smile. Most of the time, I don't hold any particular appreciation for the sun; Middle Eastern summers are uncomfortable. Still, leaving the office before daylight has faded... bright bus stop breeze flutters shadows sun lazes d’Verse Haibun Monday:… Continue reading Breeze flutters shadows, or: Before nightfall
Blank verse in iambic heptameter 80 doesn't even burn, but I'm drinking 94, feeling its sting against my throat before the smooth warmth spreads; soothing, relaxing; though nothing like the pounding, scalding water on my shoulders, back and buttocks just earlier. Sitting in my yeti hide fleece pajamas afterwards, I thought to describe the sensation… Continue reading Kentucky, or: Jerusalem
When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. -Henri Nouwen (1932 – 1996)
The Skeptic's Kaddish 🇮🇱 
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