Moshe
I am six years old and I go to Yeshiva and my name is Moshe. In summer there is an old woman who lives in the radiator in the living room of my apartment.
Writer’s Choice
We grew up on fear and became heroes…
Fifty feet of nylon line and a milk jug stretched across the bay. Twenty hooks, mostly trebles, hung waiting; chicken liver and dough balls luring them in.
A Drop Like Wet Shellac
To your villa they come– the sketchbooks, the cameras, parade past your clay mugs and plates, black lace mantillas that covered your legs, white wooden bed…
Recipe for Saying Goodbye
Prepare for cooking by crawling in bed with ill mother to hear the secrets of making her special cornbread. Talk about all the times you have shared her cornbread…
Book Review: How to Change Your Mind
Michael Pollan’s latest book is: How to Change Your Mind: What the New Science of Psychedelics Teaches Us About Consciousness, Dying, Addiction, Depression and…
What I Remember from 5th & San Pedro
The place I saw you. How you were walking, squinting, through the slowly-becoming-blinding dawn light. How you carried a large red and white tote bag.
The Waves Still Whisper Lullabies
Out of a mall. I have a feeling that I forgot to take something. Something that Lynn crucially needs and I’ll have to visit the mall again. But no.
On the Same Bittersweet Day
On the same bittersweet day | I gave each a name | And loved each alike.| On the same bittersweet day, | I rocked a crib | And commissioned a grave.
The Space Between
Staring up at a velvet black sky, we watch millions of stars spark and swirl. On a quilt, soft and worn with years of washing and dreaming, we speak of the fate of humanity…