At every side,
cannons.
And the only escape...
A small and muddy
swath
with lungs of afternoon
and flowers of
yesterday
soaked in earth
and red oil.
Kettles in either hand
each glowing as stars
and each
screaming
at walls they cannot see.
Chopped...
my favorite historian says
“Evangelicals want to keep
Israel real
for the rapture,” now
their plans are
falling into place:
their bombs are
falling into Gaza;
their anti-Zionism = anti-Semitism equation is
falling...
The Kleine Zaal in the late-19th-century Concertgebouw rewards focus more than spectacle, which made it a good room for award-winning sitarist Jasdeep Singh Degun...
“She had everything she needed: a little bit of laundry-change that she scraped off the dining table the other night, some water, her half-eaten lunch, a comic book and a tiny slip with her address scribbled on it.”
““But now, we are walking backwards until we collide. We are talking of women and their men, of the wall, of the weather. Of us. “Does it trouble you too?” I ask.”
“Time is a blur and I do not remember what I was before. For as long as I know, the day I came upon these untouched waters, was the day I began to live. For is not to love, to live?”