Twisted
Once, I wrote poetry, the black cat part of me. Once, I flew on airplanes, until they gave me migraines. Once upon a time I believed in ever after but no prince proved… Continue reading
Once, I wrote poetry, the black cat part of me. Once, I flew on airplanes, until they gave me migraines. Once upon a time I believed in ever after but no prince proved… Continue reading
Inside a tangle of flesh the I feels youth. Outside the weathered face, a young mind reviles this gnarled being with no reason to exist. Youth knows not of a life… Continue reading
You see them on the street — old people with canes, wheelchairs and walkers. You scoff at them and rush past while taking a bite of your burrito. Then, as you sip on… Continue reading
One of the things not on my to-do list: Living to be 110. Oldest Holocaust survivor, Alice Herz-Sommer, dies at 110 in London after living in Israel for 40 years. She knew Kafka.… Continue reading
What does the fecund human see when s/he looks in the mirror? He sees a fit, handsome man regardless of the fat layers. He runs a comb or brush through his… Continue reading