the world outside is of course going to hell – not only have we let hell loose by opening up schools and shopping malls at the same time, but a top Iranian nuclear scientist has been assassinated.  Whether we were involved our not, we’re to blame and we will pay.   So we stay home.  In fact, the worse the news, the more we make cakes.  Right now, Ezi is making a Dobos Torte.  Write me for the recipe

Me, I’m finishing up the  poems that I wrote with Robert Priest so we can record them next week as a disk.  Here’s an example:

Your Legs

 

“Your legs

Are not your best feature,

They should be played down,”

She said – and I looked up at her face

To see if she meant it

Since except for the blue lines

interlacing with red on the skin,

My legs are quite superb

And the crisscross of veins

Remind me of my father

And although I never saw her,

His mother.  I merge

With their chronicles of aches,

Long hours of standing

When the pain from below

Calls me back to my body

From wherever I was, saying

“Whatever you have to do

Cannot be as significant

As the generations that created

Those legs upon which you stand.”

 

They may be

My best feature.