Here, I give the feelings to my grandfather. The impossibility of believing that his country, his town, (his life, his memories, his friends, his romances) exist…the collision of reality and fantasy that constitute the immigrant's longing. Poetry A TABLE THAT GOES ON FOR MILES The women’s legs look better every year. His basement, still strung […]

Because it’s really that place which is unreachable, or mysterious, at which the poem becomes ours, finally… A personal note. For all of what seemed, between 2001 and 2007, the ugliest of hate feuds, I turned to four poets—not for solace, but for connection. I was in Jerusalem then, a city that too often gives […]