In the star-strewn field where we meet... Before the gates close... Hold me in a slow-dance ecstatic embrace.
I exist beyond biology....I am a warrior and my cause is honesty...I choose to feel everything.
Eve lives inside my skin...she is primal, she is woman, she is curious, she is new, she is wild...Eve is not "The fallen slut that caused all the trouble," though oversimplifications of texts would have us believe that.
Another terror victim has died. She has a remarkable story. This poem is offered up in her memory.
Heron, your indifference, your beak to the sky, your unmoving, ruffled stance on the crumbling seawall, your staunch you-ness, it’s so easy for you. To be you. You through and through.
5775 - There's something so comforting in its sturdy symmetry. And Lord knows we need some comfort this year. So let's make the most of 5775's palindromic power with some spoken-word in its honor.
The sound of the effort to escape is also the sound of the effort to know where you are now.
Nostalgia calls,
Beaming from ancient hillsides,
A legacy lay dormant,
buried in the Judean soil
contoured crests and valleys
unfolding along a lush river of time;
for
the splendor.
the receiving.
the taste of aleph-beis on my tongue.
the tambourine beating in my blood.
Why is the Temple Mount so terribly fraught with conflict? Chaya shares a smashing poetic vision that unravels the paradox of the world's most holy & most contested site.
