Poetry
Steady Hand
Steady Hand The Bris. The celebration of removal of foreskin The first of his covenants with our Creator Not in the presumed sterility of hospital walls But done in one’s home surrounded by family and deli Some choose to step back Shout out the obligatory “mazel tov” on cue. Others crowd around close to the…
Read MoreThere was a Space. Part 1
I always wanted a screened in porch, a four season room. The outside of a house always interested me more than the inside. True zen, I believe, can only be found in nature. In this poem, I parallel the changes in nature to the transformation going on between two lovers. There Was A Space. Part…
Read More1217 Miles
As part of my work as a psychiatrist, I did a stint in Telepsychiatry. This is providing psychiatric care via Skype, to those in need, to individuals who do not have physicians that are easily accessible. Montana, called ‘Big Skype Country’ in jest, is one of those places. There is a major shortage of physicians…
Read MoreMost of All
[two_columns_one] [/two_columns_one] [two_columns_one_last] He’s got it right, the friend who wrote about a woman wearing a man’s shirt, the way she can pull his scent to her and feel his arms around her again. I think a man likes to see a woman dressed in his shirt: the sleeves dangling and the buttons and holes…
Read MoreShadow Cookies
Black night, sliver of moon making no promise. The small sliver, barely noticed by humans sheltered in their homes. If it seeps into their field of vision, they may glance from their heated hibernation. Tell a stranger on the street to look up at the moon and they will curl a perplexed, patronizing brow for your unsolicited order. For…
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