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When I was twelve, I read The Diary of Anne Frank.
I identified with her having to live
stories above a busy street
over a business, and having to keep quiet
for hours at a time.
I’d pad about on…
As if you could draw a line and say: below this there’s poverty.
Here’s the bread that turned black in the colorations
Of cheap makeup
And the olives in their little plate
Atop the cloth over the…
It took me twenty years to love
this hole in the middle of nowhere.
The cotton balls spread a white flame
and there was an ill wind in the cypresses
until for the first time I saw,
with a just eye,
t…
I think of my father who believes
a Jew can outrun fate by owning land.
Slave to property now, I mow
and mow, my destiny the new Egypt.
From his father, the tailor, he learned not
to rent but to own…
Amid breathtaking bougainvilleas
I while away my time
One floor up Emilia’s
Flimsy lingerie is hanging on a line
Tiny hummingbirds hover
Around a wistful rose
A mouse caught in a saucer
Watch where…
I am now writing, with God’s help, a new commentary on your breasts.
It is a precious, blessed composition, in my poverty I have gathered various commentaries,
From what came to hand. It is a…
I was born on Saturday, 7 March 1936, towards nine in the evening, in a maternity clinic located at 19 Rue de l’Atlas, in the xixth arrondissement of Paris. My father, I believe, was the one who…
In the hot tranquillity of Sunday afternoons in Lusaka, beyond the shrill whistle of the cicadas and the drone of radio sports commentaries, we could hear the muffled thudding of tribal drums.
The…
War is the continuation of politics,
and South Lebanon is the continuation of Upper Galilee:
Therefore it’s all too natural for a state
to wage war in Lebanon.
Youth is the continuation of…
A week after we broke up, I allowed
Myself the pleasure of the dainties of pain.
This time without the luxury of tears.
I let it get worked up. In the throat,
In the heart. Who would have believed…