A Kimo For My Young Mother
This poem is a Kimo — the “haiku of Israel.” Running through the woods–family dog ahead.Laughing, my hand reaches yours.Mother–you are still young. There was…
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This poem is a Kimo — the “haiku of Israel.” Running through the woods–family dog ahead.Laughing, my hand reaches yours.Mother–you are still young. There was…
I could have walked away at any time. My friends encouraged, cajoled, threatened, and begged me to do so. One woman friend offered me sex…
I rest my head against the window, peering into the night at the passing Indiana farmland. The soft patter of rain and methodical swish of…
I think of trees personified, realizing a birch tree is the dead uncle of a maple come back as a ghost. To haunt or comfort–it’s…
Copyright © 2019, Glenn Stok Originally published on Medium on Oct 26, 2019
Do not put me on a pedestal,we are equals and equallyfucked up. Equally trying to find our truths.Equally seeking out that little bit of joy. Equally…
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