Uncle Joe


You always smelled likelimburger cheese and slibovitz.I remember how you held your nosebetween two fingersand blew it into the streethow you slurped your borshtstraight from the bowlhow you said with a Polish accent“Vot a vunderful tuchus she has.”A refined man you Read more ›

Moving On


My grief is like a storm which rumbles to an end. The wind dies down the current slackens on the shoals white clouds stretch across the sky like huge confections. I still recall the splendor of her smile the solace Read more ›