November’s poems, simply put, are beautiful in their provocation. Like the best poetry, they force us to look anew, to reconsider perspective, to reshape our own vision, if only for the time with these delicate verses.
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We know all each other's secrets. she knows I'm an Orthodox Jew. I know she's a vampire slayer.
Somebody handed me a crying baby. There wasn't really a sense that I was a stranger.
My grandmother was religious. It was just that I could not see it until after she passed away.
I'm not hysterical about Trump, and I don't worry much about anti-Semitism. Though I'm no optimist, the panic surrounding me feels unduly intense. Let's hope I'm right.
It's time to stop using modesty as a blanket excuse to avoid difficult conversations. The stakes are too high.
Meet Amnon, an artist, farmer, winemaker, and baal teshuva Israeli who now lives in Bat Ayin Bet. Bat Ayin Bet, unlike the main town of Bat Ayin, is not recognized by the Israeli government as a legal town. Amnon lives on the very edge of Bat Ayin Bet, in a home he built himself, with his family.
