One time when I was young my father asked me to help him in the shop by sanding some wood. I began sanding the board against the grain. When my Dad barked at me for it I threw the sanding block down and never helped him again. So perhaps it’s fitting that for the past thirteen years my work has focused almost exclusively on the natural beauty of wood.
New Day, New War
dawn breaks over dust—jets thunder into IranIsrael’s warning
missiles cross at dusk—sirens bloom in BeershebaTel Aviv trembles
bunker busters boom—America joins the fraycall...
Glass Houses
We hide behind glass—thin, trembling breath,shattered silence,each crack a raw wound,a secret bleeding light.Truth fractures us—yet in jagged breaks,strength flickers, trembling,not a mask,...
