Eventually, this will resume again. In the meantime, something from mid-June that I just dug up, and a poem from last Purim, when I saw the most beautiful sunset.
20s at Ransom
Trapped in glass
words of masters
scream in dignity
Battling a stillborn brawl.
an old war of the present
citing and projecting.
The field is silent and vibrant
near and ancient
new and alien.
Which holds us?
Where have we taken
each other this round?
Everything depends - my lands in order.
The clouds have lost their luster
But after a moment's metamorphose,
Transform into sleek ravens, black
And violet against the darkened azure,
Whither the brazened and ambered moon ascends.
Dissected, a whole, a crescent against
The dying irridescence of spectrum
The rising majesty of umber
And rises and pearls, wrapping itself
In the olive memory of banded murk,
Written in darkness.
Erev Shalosh-Esrei b'Adar
Ben Finkel, March 3 2007