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I’m not Jewish.
I just want to talk about Hanukkah.
Since we have Christmas break, what about Hanukkah break?
It’s a holiday, too…
What an interesting holiday, Hanukkah.
The story of the Maccabees and the candles.
But why doesn’t everybody know about the story?
Everyone knows the Christmas story.
Well…
What’s the excuse?
We don’t hear about decorating menorahs,
Or singing Hanukkah songs.
There aren’t any shopping sales to buy Hanukkah presents.
Why?
It’s just as important a Christmas.
What are the reasons?
I feel bad for the Jewish.
They sit and listen to Christians talk about Christmas all year.
Do they celebrate both holidays now?
Well, what can I do?
The Jewish seem to be fine with all of this…
anxiety is a dog whistle.
a hand on your knee
tastes like tin:
sharp bright lingering.
a survivor,
threatened
will begin preparations
for ten times their past.
in this way you can name shadows.
your body knows pretense
registers his walk
before you do.

close your ears

anxiety is a dog whistle
you are a dog
january.
The coo-coo clock sings an opera at midnight.
Floor boards creak like an old man’s knees.
Shutters slap wildly outside the windows like a hand hitting water.
Dust collects as if it were a pack rat’s collection.
Cobwebs fly like cardinals.
Curtains flutter like a butterfly’s wings.
Doors swoosh like a bed skirt in the wind.
Watches
Great trend setters
Designed fashionably
Time-telling trap around your wrist
Quartz face
i am so imprecise a silhouette
that i waver in the midst
of swirling seas

i am so detached a soul
so unfocused and blinding
(a galaxy, loosened)
that i cloud and distort the senses,
stand between a body
and its needs

the garish outline of my necessity
grinds landscapes to a neat
unforgivable dust
later in august, almost september.
Our World turns slowly. She
protects us all, and all we do
to thank her, is **** her.
i leave my body vibrating
in the ground
in the thick vegetation clouding your body

the silent ticking
of digital clocks
cracks my skin in increments

round
a sun heavy in a wet mouth
early september.
The ground lures the Fall
Leaves to leave their home and come down
And cover the dead grass.
Green gems change color in
Dim, still light of the volcanoes
Rain cools sizzling Spring Earth
The sharp cacti are needles in a pin cushion, sticking their needles out to ***** the finger of a helpless person.
The dry, rough ground is a pair of Winter lips, in need of moisturizing.
The one tree every 50 miles is a rain drop in a drought, treasured and loved by everyone in the desert.
The one of few ponds is a warm, rich, and steamy bath, used so much until it’s gone.
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