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Archive for the ‘The Arts’ Category

Inspired by Yehuda Amichai (2000),Open closed open. Translated by Chana Bloch & Chana Kronfeld My life is the gardener of my body. The brain – a hothouse closed tight

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Bluet

From Bluets, by Maggie Nelson 1. Suppose I were to begin by saying that I had fallen in love with a color. Suppose I were to speak this as though it were a confession; suppose I shredded my napkin as we spoke. It began slowly. An appreciation, an affinity. Then, one day, it became more […]

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I asked my friend Deb for a poem idea. “Death?” she replied. “LOL.”   I hadn’t told her it was intended to be a love poem.  

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Even the youngest brother became an old man, his spine concave, ill-fitting gray trousers cinched with a worn brown belt above his hepatitis-distended belly, gray stubble on his poorly-shaved cheeks and neck, his crowded and yellow teeth host to the remains of breakfast.  

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I come to life when color begins to leave the leaves when the stain of amber and gold and burnt sienna seeps into the once verdant green and school-bus yellow ushering in the rich and glorious palette of decay and death.  

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