What a Robert Browning poem teaches us about old age and the surprising Jewish influence on his work.
If you have a child with autism / you know what I mean. /So here starts my poem / about a hard routine…
My little one moves in his sleeper / And reaches out to seek my warmth / I pray for silence
By R. Rosenfeld He asked me “Are you headed north?” I nodded and he followed. The two of us, coated in dust – left footprints in the ash of pulverized humans, computers, desks and towers. We made our way side by side through the gray Armageddon surrounding us. Had my grandmother’s ashes floated this […]