Monday, March 28, 2005

rain and the rug

It was pouring out, and you were there
sweat in your hair
stains on your shirt
cowering in the corner
after spilling wine on the Persian carpets
I arrive with windex, on my knees scrubbing smiling
because this is never coming out.
Hand in hand, we threw the rug on the porch
To let the bastard soak a bit more
With nothing to do
we kicked off our shoes
stripped off our clothes
and made love till sundown

yom kippur confessions

Oh, Merciful One!
I implore you! Forgiveness!

Forgive me for the Mercedes and all the lobsters
The cheeseburger, my father bought for me
The bacon strips, my mother’s breakfast
Refusal was my first thought
But the fifth commandment
Made it difficult to decide

I am a lost, hungry soul
Void of direction, focus, and cherry blintzes

Show me the true course
To righteousness
And the falafel stand

Oh merciful one
I beg of you
a bissel of mercy
and a sesame bagel

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Vodka Ghost

she hovered smoothly like a ghost
past me, past everyone’s staring eyes
long white dress, red shoes
heavenly scent of risk
with a face that asked for trouble
all the gentlemen stood, frozen
sucked in like magnets

I tell you, we met eyes once
And in those green spheres I saw us
robbing banks in Georgia
tearing down vineyards in Napa
skinny dipping in the White House

She escaped that evening
plotting her next attack
left me on the couch, vodka in hand
with something to write about
for the rest of my life

Saturday, March 19, 2005

Before the sun rose

i saw you before the sun rose
the air like dandelions, me five
come over my house
eat play-dough and cookies
play in mud with no clothes
we were too young to care

gave you sunflowers on your 13th
went ice skating, got hot dogs
a kiss in public, under rain
you held my hand, a taste of love
i was smiling. scared
and then I knew.

roses along the aisle, our parents in tears
rings on fingers to calm our fears
the setting sun spoke of fortunes
and not your sickness

held your hairless head up
when the cancer made its home
mitochondria fighting a war
we stood on the front lines
you slept, i prayed
my only defense

saw you dream for the last time
hands icy, frozen
set you down, beneath ground
dandelions everywhere
and contemplated whether to fall asleep
and find you

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

w/o purpose and sometimes

In los angeles
tanned farmers have all left
air smells like strawberries
glasses clink, cigarette smoke
money sinks, you’re a joke
mirrors everywhere, lines for coke
speed demons
they can’t drive
sixteen spiders run along highways
venom injecting personalities
hearts, lives.
Escape outward, to new lands
jealous of bad corruption
spreads like a
please, please don’t let me go
I’m finding my way home.


Sometimes I soar, fall, dive
swoop like an eagle
feeding frenzy in my brain
thoughts rushing, rushing about you
cooking in the kitchen, without a shirt
can drive a man crazy
raise your hands, at that angle
I’m like melted water
I’ve never told you
it’s a secret
and not yours.

Passover at Susan's

There are forty of us.
Five couples, four grandparents, nineteen singles, seven babies.
Ruth was late
As usual
Robert couldn’t break the afikomen.
The Seder would have to wait,
we were missing Aunt Ruth.
The grandparents sighed
The singles waited
The babies cried
The couples sat jaded
elbows on the table, growling stomachs, patience thinner than Matzah.
In walks Ruth, suddenly surprised
Susan rose, fists at her side, ready to strike
“What took you so long! We said at five!”
“One thousand apologies, but I didn’t drive.”
The grandparents wept
The singles outraged
The babies slept
The couples prayed
And then everyone ate.

Sunday, March 13, 2005

more poems and crap


seeped love
through the pores
her heart
pouring over
like wine
and I
just watched.

meet me in the beer hall

Sixteen gathered to interpolate
The thought the change the world
Make it better, cleaner, purer
Curb hyper inflation!
Fix the broken economy!
Solve the world’s problems!
Join us, youth!
Except you bunch
We’ll deal with you later
But soon
Berlin beer halls
nineteen thirty three.

save the collection

Every Tuesday
she collects rocks
Sharp ones and flat ones and round ones
Her fingers
They were weak once
When she was younger
They gathered over her, in the house
empty now, because the woman was gone
They’d say “nine without a mother. terrible.
What’s do now with the girl?”
and her father didn’t know what to do
her favorite subject
on Tuesdays
she collects the rocks
they stay in her pocket

Thursday, March 10, 2005

Like there's no tomorrow....

Got into a bike accident today. My 4th. I try to fall at least once a year. I'm happy my quota is up, on account of my graduation from here at the end of this year. I'll miss falling. Now onto the action.

If you're gonna go down, go down in glory, and take some people down with you. My foot slipped off the pedal, my body flew forward, I knew I was gonna hit pavement, I wasn't going that fast but still I was moving I was moving, threw my weight to the right and landed on my back on the grass. no broken bones. just a broken spirit. and a red cut on my wrist. i'm more concerned people are gonna think I attempted suicide.

If you're gonna do that, come on. It's all or nothing.

My roommate, the illustrious Jeremy Jacocks calls himself dank digital j. get it? cuz he's all three: dank, digital, and his name is J. he's building a website...Find pictures HERE

click on me!

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

The Godly Groove

I cannot escape
the rhythm
the Cuban beats
the Latin drums
at home, in the car, on iPod
on the way to yeshiva

talmud has a flow
just like salsa
or meringue
but never the cha-cha

going to the gym!
I tells the others
rabbis in training, just like me
Only they can’t dance

Sunday, March 06, 2005

for the record

Where we headed?
up the coast
i own a motorcycle
can you imagine
me and you, with the wind in our face
it’d be perfect
I’m starting to like you.
then maybe vegas
I know a synagogue
stays open
most of the day
friendly rabbi, too
Sounds good. I’m hungry. Let’s get some food?
some pizza,
god willing
but this time,
no onions
You’re leaving?
I thought-
didn’t know
you were
on the phone.

Thursday, March 03, 2005

This Aggression will not stand, Man.

As noted before, the script will undergo major surgery this weekend, when I find the time to actually get some writing done. Shit has been insane with the SB jewish film festival, and I find its acronym as funny as your mom. SBJFF. Sounds like the noise my brothers and I make after late night taco bell.

I'm working on my resume and noticing how empty it is, the demons now stepping out to debate the possible valuelessness of my soul. I'm so much more than what reads on a piece of paper, and it's pointless to cram creativity and personality into half a page. You want jokes, you want the funny...That I can give, yente.

The house watched the Big Lebwoski tonight. I've seen it so much I can't watch it anymore. I felt bad that I was calling out all the lines and disrupting them, but its our generations rocky horror. at least for people who live in the san fernando valley. The BL, hookah bars, persians at coffeeshops, traffic on Ventura (which exploded recently) and free parking have become out staples.

J, my roomate. He's on his 3rd white russian. Its only 2 am. He's a computer programmer. He goes to bed at nine.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005


i like getting wisdom teeth out.

finished the screenplay. the first draft, that is. many many more revisions i presume to follow before we can begin shooting. all i can tell u is that its about ortho jews high on drugs...

i like getting shots too. its a genuine indication that youre getting healthy. unless youre vaccinated, which means youre getting a weakened strain, and actually mildy sick.

check this thursday! my santa barbara film festival article is up.

ive had bronchitis for what, like 4 fucking months already? i also just found out that alcohol disengages your immune system, so taking antibiotics and yager---not a good idea.