A poem about my potential encounter with my deceased grandmother one Yom Kippur—and fear, doubt, mystery, and the mystical power of the sun.
Genesis, art, and Hitchcock. Continuing where "I’m Done Being A Jewish Artist" left off.
We hunger to love the undiscovered, we long to grow fond of wanting, help us remember what we have forgotten.
A poem about craving immortality, seeking home, and meeting a mediocre God.
Strangers can be wildly fascinating, both in person and on social media. The opportunities they offer for connection and expanded perception are beautiful and downright mystical.
I miss the days when friends and family members truly opened up about their insecurities, failures, and deep thoughts. Yes, you're adults now, but you can still share your souls.
