The Golem and I
I was a scrawny kid with two left feet who stumbled over cracks in sidewalks and could not bear to see a caterpillar set afire or a butterfly stripped of its wings. I was always falling, from monkeybars and swings… Read more ›
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Becoming Mastroianni
I was a precocious child. I declared myself An existentialist at age 15, Before I could even spell it, Convinced that if God wasn’t absent He was certainly sleeping on the job. That same year I saw La Dolce Vita… Read more ›
His Grandma’s Breath
Everything at his grandma’s house sighed with the burden of advancing age, the sagging sofa with its threadbare antimacassar, the chipped Italian figurines, the peeling grey linoleum on the kitchen floor. Even the parakeet hovering on his clipped wings had… Read more ›
The Island
Your nervous old world father, With his giant mustache, Paced the lakefront Crying out your name And muttering to himself In frantic Hungarian. Supine in a leaky rowboat, Hidden from all prying eyes, We drifted across the lake, Barely lifting… Read more ›
My Father’s Scars
My father’s scars were carved so deeply in his back and arms they formed an unforgiving landscape of pitted valleys and dried up river beds. I gazed in fascination as he shaved wondering if they still hurt. When he wasn’t… Read more ›
Melodies
After half a century, You and I could pass each other On the street Without a glint of recognition. But every time I listen to a Chopin polonaise Or one of Billie’s songs, The memories come flooding back. I’m in… Read more ›
The Preacher’s Gone Mad
On Sunday the preacher , to the consternation of his congregants, decided to found a whole new faith, The Brethren of the Here and Now. There aint no second act, he sanctimoniously declared, so sit back and enjoy the first.… Read more ›
Las Vegas, 2011
In Vegas you can get Tori, a comely co-ed from L.A. Delivered to your door In twenty minutes flat Or else she’s free. Twins are only fifty dollars more. But I’ve got Irma with me, Tigress of the AARP And… Read more ›
Mohsen
Beautiful kid. In yet another drunken rage, Your father’s locked you out again. You show up at my door At an hour when Only feral dogs Roam the cramped streets Scavenging for food. Beautiful kid, Your swollen face, A ghostly… Read more ›
The Cavers’ Bash
This ain’t no dress rehearsal, Alan says with a sly grin, this here’s the real thing. He’s knee deep in the river, clad only in a derby hat, black bowtie, thong and gloves, serving wine and canapés from a shiny… Read more ›