The image is the real character of the poem He must have been from Czechoslovakia. His sister had died. He took a liking to my mother— He approached her and said, “listen: You want to get out of here? When I leave I can get you out of here and you...
I arrive in the former Jewish ghetto in Prague on July 2, the day before Kafka’s birthday. I’d been reading him all year. And not only him—but about him--the biographies, the criticism. Kafka and the Cabbalah, Kafka on Film…why was I so hung up on...
We who never know if we will know another year, another day, another hour, here we are, now, still partaking of the food and the wine and the talk around the table, still saying: I love you, still distinguishing, despite the soothsayers, the snowf...
Mr. President-Of-Our-Synagogue, Mr. Cigar-Smoking, Beer-Drinking Steelers-Watching, Torah-Chanting, Mr. Fix-The-Leak-Before-The-Scrolls Are-Ruined, Mr. Famous-Gambler Of-Atlantic City, Mister-Without-Whom- We-Wouldn’t-Even-Hear-A-Still-Small-Voic...