Coffee Talk

            We sit across the table in desolate Tel Aviv hushed under the swollen canopy of paranoia, after another day tired of intensity or intensely tired. The enchanting greenness of your eyes like olives soak in the ferment of tears.

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THE BALCONY

As if crawling naked out of the bottom of a clay bowl sunken in the dry heat of the Samarian wadi I’ve been forced out of your bedroom the last seven nights in search for movement of air. The ink-black clouds move over making room

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