Rain Light
by Adam | Thursday 25 September 2008
All day the stars watch from long ago my mother said I am going now when you are alone you will be all right whether or not you know you will know look at the old house in the...
Zayda
by Adam | Friday 22 August 2008
My arms are still bare from disuse, I’ve not gotten them full of blood or dirt or children, as my zayda did, butcher of kosher kids and angel of them too. Beneath my shirt there are sprouts and sprouts of...
Haiku: Sweet Caroline
by Adam | Monday 18 August 2008
Neil Diamond concert fourteen thousand white people are dancing badly...
BlogEntry Placebo
by Adam | Tuesday 12 August 2008
In the summer mornings I feel legs pulling against mine – a trainer serving a track star – laps have been completed but the clock was not running, so again this one doesn’t count. Maybe next time. My cupboard is...
Arrival
by Adam | Wednesday 6 August 2008
Girl on the BART train to Milbrae There was a cut-off and she just made it (suitcase in hand); it was pink beyond flamingo and bubble gum, she wore an aqua marine fleece and turquoise socks, all the pastels of...
Screen
by Adam | Friday 20 June 2008
In New York when I sleep with the window open I do it with the feeling of also being ajar. The noises carom through the apartment canyons and arise in me a distrust of what I'll never fathom: my neighbors...
Columbus Circle
by Adam | Wednesday 14 May 2008
It's hardly credible how it's 3 A.M. again on Sunday -- Mother's Day May -- and I've put my flask on a stranger's sill and bared my chest getting smaller by the year. The blinds are down in the...
Passover
by Adam | Monday 21 April 2008
I am enclosed by people that I know, who made me possible somehow but I disguise them. I’ve begun to find tiny hair, weeds they Creep around my shoulders like an embrace tightening for the worst, dark constellations of ivy,...
Herod
by Adam | Thursday 10 April 2008
These stones are being piled upon old ones, like Herod did, upon the ramparts and moorings of last century with its twiggy litter and bottled-all. Strangers only half-thirsty for pop lemonade the ounces remaining went to the critters or...
Not A Sonnet
by Adam | Friday 28 March 2008
You weigh heavy like a color upon a set of endless tracks. You pin another pocket of resistance – borrowed - from a tin of metal tacks. It’s spring you know where are the cranes? Perching buildings devolving to three...
I've Nothing New to Say
by Adam | Saturday 2 February 2008
It is Saturday; always start with time. To follow: I am in my apartment. I've decided to make it a Sabbath. I worked Friday night and it was slow until friends and regulars stopped by and we all just...
Sea of Galilee
by Adam | Sunday 20 January 2008
Day Two: Jetlag Above the Kinneret, 6:44 A.M. I was stranded like a vessel on the water; I put faith in nature and set myself adrift, isn't that how all epics begin: a tide of repose and resignation, a tide...
Home For Thanksgiving
by Adam | Monday 19 November 2007
From W.S. Merwin's The Moving Target and probably a top ten all-time favorite poem. Home For Thanksgiving I bring myself back from the streets that open like long Silent laughs, and the others Spilled into in the way of rivers...
Too Much Leonard Cohen =
by Adam | Monday 29 October 2007
Confessional I loved you quickly and fully like anti-aircraft shot in evening lamplight. You were mine but I never spotted you return fare, thought you could afford it. I believed in other Gods, I know that’s the first commandment, sorry....
First of September
by Adam | Sunday 2 September 2007
On the border, there are jackals, bearing down with their eyes, less like predators, and more as olive presses do. I say Tolstoy, like my dying word, on the very day they named his city Petrograd. You pick the other...
As Elijah Was
by Adam | Monday 13 August 2007
I was dressed in rags before I came through your open door, as Elijah was, and you met me inside, luring me to wine at the family table filled with endlessness. The erasure marks of moderation, of portents, there upon...
A Mime, A Beret, and the Champs-Élysées
by Adam | Sunday 12 August 2007
Trying to look as French as possible here. Champs Elysees: Part One One day when I'm traveling dishonestly, I will wake up early (or stay out all night) so that I can walk the Champs Elysees when it's empty...
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Behind All This...
by Adam | Thursday 19 July 2007
He was formed half by the ethics of his father and half by the cruelties of war... -Foreword to a Yehuda Amichai anthology. #4 of Amichai's Seven Laments for the War-Dead 4 I came upon an old zoology textbook, Brehm,...
Sonnet
by Adam | Friday 22 June 2007
Solstice Dusk was counterveiled by the rivulets and burnishes amid the comedy of the park. We met on the longest day and we had no letters on or need to request its cessation. I stayed on your pillows beset by...
Alone on a Shelf
by Adam | Sunday 8 April 2007
Alone on a Shelf we’re almost a story not for fire fuel nor for the lists they have for required reading not quite a story lacking principles and constitutions like the countries surrounding us we’re completely unfinished like everything, literally...
Divine Intervention
by Adam | Friday 6 April 2007
Yesterday I was in the midst of writing a particularly blasphemous posting about the Chipotle burrito and how I had an argument with someone about whether a tortilla should be considered chametz or not when suddenly my blatherings were...
Copyright, Shmopyright
by Adam | Friday 19 January 2007
The Water Cooler They're poisoning the atmosphere now you and I've split because they're trying to get something clear. The mistletoe puts up its mitts now you and I've split. The black oaks jostle and the mistletoe puts up its...
Of Karak
by Adam | Wednesday 30 August 2006
From the column, the grit folds way and falls from Saladin to sand the dust of more desperate eras. Of Karak, the gnarl of rock and favor between Jerusalem and Mecca lay film across a wasted earth. A request:...
Conversation (Diaspora Museum)
by Adam | Sunday 20 August 2006
Conversation To welcome a guest is better than to welcome the Divine Presence. The gates of prayer are never closed. Rosa Aver, 14, who died in Auchwitz. This is the story of a people which was scattered, over all the...
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Guest Column (Amelia)
by Adam | Wednesday 16 August 2006
“Only I Get To Pick On My Little Brother” by Amelia Chandler-Lewy All armies are the same Publicity is fame Artillery makes the same old noise Valor is an attribute of boys Old soldiers all have tired eyes All soldiers...
Mike's Place
by Adam | Saturday 12 August 2006
At the site of the bombing everyone speaks in English so there I pretend to be foreign. There is no more grief only Top 40 music and drafts a half-hidden collection jar. At the site of the bombing there is...