What is good is what is here. And for this we must both laugh and sing.
Children are being torn from the arms of their mothers.
Your every step can’t help but grind riots of inquiry into the dusty dirt.
Is it possible to drop a romanticized, cultural identity?
A poem about the loneliness and invisibility of aging single women in the Jewish community, together with the vulnerability that comes with being on one's own.
There is light from overhead. And there is full-moon light that leaks through your walls. Light that seeps through...
If ever you are ready, the cave’s mouth awaits you; the sacred awaits you.
