Poems

  • 22 March 2005

    (a kaddish and a handful of rose petals wrapped in the american flag in military time presented to the oldest brother of a brace of fathers who are not as they say practicing jews and the curious son looking on)

  • 22 March 2004

    Even here
        where I can feel the emptiness pulsing,
        sifting down through layers of meaning,

    I rise.

  • 22 January 2004

    Sometimes, I want to be cold.
    But the sun has thrown down its stare on me
    for too long:
        my legs, arms, neck
    baked into rosy terracotta warmth.