A poem, Kiddush on the Solstice, and digital landscapes, HaEtz HaChaim 1–7, from Michael Dickel on Meta/ Phor(e) /Play.
“Somewhere, a whirring fan
in an open window spins
possibilities into threads.”
—a poem from Nothing Remembers, by Michael Dickel, forthcoming from Finishing Line Press.
The poem has four stanzas of 9 lines each, for 36 lines (double 18), not counting the epigrams from Genet. Each line has 9 syllables. The total number of syllables is 324, plus the 36 lines, equals 360—the number of degrees in a circle. Chai, Hebrew for life, equals 18 according to gematria. So, 36 lines, double 18, is double life.
A hybrid essay-fiction flash set in a mystical garden that doesn’t exist in Jerusalem Recalled but possibly in Jerusalem Imagined.
Adeena Karasick and Michael Dickel will host an exciting tour of Israel that will hit highlights but also delve into the unusual. Throughout, the tour will inspire, prompt, encourage you to write with workshops, performances, and lots of deep language play.
In the developing neuro-network, gaia, quantum determinism
unfolds into refracted realities, glimmering sparks, momentum
of free will…
Yesterday in Pansy Bradshaw’s memory, may it be for a blessing for gary, as he grieves Parents of an infant girl prayed in thanks at the Kotel after so many years believing they “didn’t merit” a child— the weather nice, reasonably warm for October. At the light rail stop […]
Flash Fiction Month seems to stretch longer and longer on the calendar, and here I am again with another post. Except, it might not be fiction. How does one define fiction? Is it even prose? What is prose? Poetry? The meaning of life? I’m back to experimenting, my […]