Rothschild boulevard 

Time to confess;

I am a Rothschild,

But I lack a tail

and horns 


Of world bank


And money.

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The kind of sadness 

The kind of sadness

Only I know

The sort of despair

that insists and insists 

And insists 

And stays

And never seems

to leave

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The sand

A young man slapping a large 

Black dog

Beneath the waves 

Rainbow colored fish

My newly adopted yellow dog

Attempts to escape 

To run away

Meanwhile the large black dog

Swims joyfully within the waves

Between the young man

And his bikini dressed girlfriend 

The yellow dog cries a deep cry

My attempts to love her

And yet keep her tied

To a pole in the shade

While i swim


Elderly dogs

One with a broken tooth

the other too much hair

At home 

We collapse

The small red haired dog

Reclaims her place.

I worry

What happens next

Then go out


In the sun

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Dear wall

Dear cement wall

I have a difficult time

Feeling compassion towards you

Just as you must have a difficult time

Feeling compassion towards


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Mental illness

Since I landed in the middle East I find a lot of me tel illnrss;aggression,confrontations that are also live.

I miss the European weather and the masks people wear;here there are no masks though the Arabs are good at masks ..

The heat of the people and environment is almost unbearable..

I would like to go swimming but not on a day when it is overcrowded with bathers.

Last night I attended services in the synagogue.I did not speak to anyone except to apologize to the Rabbi for being late. He was running like the white rabbit towards the tea party. dismissing my apology,I feel he is genuinely  concerned with his mission.

“Being holy”is work,he said,last night and I feel for some pre than others.

This morning I took the dogs to the dog playground ,a particularly was looking dog with one amputee  back paw had caught my eye;he also had a chronic skin disease. Apparently his owner had flown him from Brazil on a 16 hour journey that had to be broken down into two parts;he belonged to a child living in the slums who had given him up for a better life,the woman  had said.

Collecting data the woman was 48 employed in a call center earning more than Brazil ,she had said,had one married sister with children. 

The sister had broken up a 6 year relationship when they had arrived in Israel. She had found another.

I was thinking about relationships and what  constitutes a better life and whether here in Israel I would have a better life..

An iconic  82 year old actress I had run into ,had said that living next to the ocean is an advantage ,yes,it is unless it is overcrowded with children on vacation and tourists. .

I like winter best and recall having my best thoughts during the Times when it rains however I also recall the sadness of a European winter and the loneliness.

Here one can not be truly alone and yet I can.

I guess i had hoped for renewing old connections but time is like a river and Ican not step in it twice.

I am stepping in the river and learning not to compromise regarding relationships ;they either have to be kind considerate and encouraging or put out with the trash. 

Garbage here is free unlike the Swiss  I no longer have to think how to get rid of my trash ,just place it in the containerand oftentimes I find small treasures 

I found a pretty cardboard box ,a photo of sunset in Yosemite park .

The weekend is almost over.

Israel is a society made up of family units or pairs or young singles.

I can not find a category to belong to..

A terrible migraine is blocking my thoughts.

I try to count the says towards the end of summer..


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Who reads

Who reads words

That fail to describe

The general.ignorance 

of the inhabitants 

Of this planet

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What should 

What should the 



Drive off a cliff?

Drown their sorrows 

Thinking about a tomorrow

That may never  come?


The unloved

Should remain 



By both roses

Not thorns,

Unadorned by 


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