Poetry

The Kinneret

Over the hills in the north, the lake comes into view—azure blue water. At first you see a sea even though you know it is freshwater. Soft green hills, ancient olive Continue reading

It’s Gunna Be All Right

promises the sound of the tide coming in. Never mind the no-swim advisory, the sidewalks and parking lots strewn with yellow and black crime scene markers on the regular, the reappearing Continue reading