Contributed By: Ryo Yamaguchi
The vendor calls the sandwiches by what’s not
on them. We are localized—everything
is at risk; the season hangs in a stiff haw.
As a way of being instituted, I have been copied.
I have been made in the image. O heuristic
of common motion, to where do I walk
when this has all gone to sleep? Will I be known
by what has gone missing?
Return to table of contents for Issue 6 Fall 2012
selections from RECLAIMING THE DEAD New American Press, 2008 by Miriam Kotzin SEDER “And the Holy One, blessed be He, came and killed the Angel of Death.” —Chad Gadya The host is eager to begin. Like a too familiar uncle, the Angel of Death circles the table. The first question: whose turn. Alone, my […]
In her new chapbook, Lovebirds, Zaheer presents 12 vivid flash stories about relationships, faith, violence, loss, and desire.
years of immersion have taught me: there is nothing more jewish than to commemorate great suffering in a new era of great suffering / eating globs of horseradish as ritual so there’s a new and exciting reason / to break down in tears why is this night different from all other […]
