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There are two sorts of biography: the biography a famous person writes for his admirers, because the public likes to know everything about celebrities, and [the] autobiography, usually written because…
Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,
Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.
—Thomas Gray, “Elegy Written in a…
Life is like a river;we are fish.The water’s wholesome and freshand we would swim forever,but for a black figureon the riverbank.There Satan stands,in his handsa fishing rod,and catches fish.With a…
Fabius Lind’s days are running out in blood.
Red serpents of failures empty his veins.
In his head—white muddy stains. Confusion.
And a heavy load on his heart.
He could have . . .
He could have . .…
“The State of Israel is a distant dream,” said Jeremiah, “and my dream is close by.” I knew, of course, what he meant, but I wanted to continue talking about the subject that preoccupied me more than…
In winter, the rain beat down on the roof.
She said white was her favorite shade.
At hand he then gave her, his heart filled with joy,
A bunch of daffodils, fragrant and moist.
She laughed: “My dear…
In history class
I draw a Latin-American moustache
On Titus Aspasianus;
Miriam, who under her flannel shirt
Is beginning to show development,
Is making vulgar contours
Onto the sculpture of his bust…
This linen coat with silk-thread embroidery was worn by a Jewish boy in Bukhara (today in Uzbekistan) on the occasion of his bar mitzvah celebration. Jewish economic life in Bukhara was closely tied…
I inherited naive open-heartedness
From generations of small-town Polish Jews,
And sharp talk
From hot-bathed women in my clan.
A blind June-night mixed it all
And sent me out—
With no…
I saw myself in a dream
Head bent, on the fifth floor
I was thinking of something, looking out the window
Recalling something, I suppose.
And the sidewalk was so close,
Looking up at me with mild…