15 toward the Omer

The Reverend: mild, cheery, big of stomach. We dance close tonight, small circles. He says
"I talk to God all the time." I look overshoulder and think and then forget.

14 toward the Omer

One more day to redeem this week of counting and actually have some discipline
though maybe this year the second week's less about work and more about awe

Has my guilt over not accomplishing enough been a distraction from what is happening?
Certainly guilt over being distracted by guilt is not conducive to much of anything.

Reframing is in order. Today, I remind, is the day of malkhut within gevurah.
I am ruler of interpretations! Just don't say I'm a meaning maker. The meaning

has always been here, this moment, this doorstep, the night air soft and smiling

13 toward the Omer

I can't really tell if the loneliness from last week is actually gone
or if it's just that it's gotten buried under all these leavened carbohydrates

What listening isn't happening anymore now that I'm listening to my music again?
Though that makes it sound like I had been listening, which I wasn't

I tried a few times but always ended up singing over the whatever
Listening to myself is a good place to start, I say to myself

You know, black holes are places of great energy output, at the edges

12 toward the Omer

There are times when I want to go back and fix things
but the very notion of going back speaks to the space between

How can I tell you that I didn't doubt for one minute
that you'd be back and it wasn't that you were never there?

God says you gave it I took it there are no takebacks

11 toward the Omer

Library dreams. Stir awake, turn head. My love disappears between bookshelves.
Refocus. Tamira has taken up residence in the next chair over.

Swing around, legs over armrest. We watch a squirrel recover food.
Are you all right? she says. Your toes are red, she says.

They're warm, she says. Mental note for shidduch resume: warm feet.
Come here, she says. Obligingly lean forward. Hand upon my forehead.

You're warm, she says. You've got a fever, dear, she says.
I say Whenever I think I might have a fever and

ask someone if I have a fever I never actually have
a fever It's funny It makes me feel special when I

actually have a fever It's like relationships and I go silent.
I say I'm going to write today's Omer poem about this.

Dedicate it to me, my friend says. I say I will.

10 toward the Omer

On the way back from minyan toward car on the
tree-lined street flanked by friends I say it's the flowers
against the sky, not the flowers, it's the flowers against
the sky that's the beauty, it's flowers light colors dark
background, flowers on sky, I've been thinking about it for
days, oh just look, Will, the flowers against the sky

9 toward the Omer

In loving memory of my grandmother, Sylvia Greenfield Moses,
may her memory always be for and of blessing

"Today while the blossoms still cling to the vines
I'll taste your strawberries and drink your sweet wine
A million tomorrows shall all pass away ere I
forget all the joy that is mine today...." Quiet

falls, really it was there while we were singing,
that must be why your eyes are now closed,
I zip away my mandolin, we put on coats,
we leave with you asleep, I always look back

two or three times to get one last glimpse
in case it is that, though I don't know
why I privilege sight in such a way, sound
stays longer, I can still hear you say "marvelous"

8 toward the Omer

Chesed shebiGvurah

The beginning of discipline week. Rainy. Tired faces.
Everyone seems to be doing "okay." (We know
what that really means. Each person says it
with the same pause, the same reflective quality.)

Little glints of lovingkindness as I head onward,
my backpack still trailing crumbs of affliction bread:
Duncan and Hannah slide into my cafe booth;
Two relief-filled hugs take place in the courtyard,

executed coatless, with love and tight hold swaying;
I inquire about a new friend's ring, discover
it is bearing the ninety-nine names of Allah;
that dude there's also wearing pink All Stars--

though the rainbow patterns on our pairs differ,
we are clearly shoe buddies, kinfolk, irrefutably bonded

7 toward the Omer

My friends hold hands as they ask
what it is that I'm looking for

One of them holds my hand also
and even as I speak of lonely

it's really not that true, not tonight

6 toward the Omer

I pray Hallel while a woman walks
the labyrinth of stone behind me

There is joy in her contemplation
and praise in my murmured songs

Solitude is a hard necessary thing
that softens with sound and wonder

Trees look bigger from upside down

5 toward the Omer

Sometimes I have all these
thoughts and they are really
something to share with you

And then there are only
five minutes until it's time
to turn my computer off

And I've just found out
that I have no oven
to cook my frittata in

Thank goodness that I already
have all the ingredients that
I need for scrambled eggs

4 toward the Omer

You are my nourishment
today, this song, your
harmony, making us for
once two voices twined

Manna is much lighter
than people are so
I don't have to
ask you if it
hurt when you fell,
you know, from heaven

Isn't it nice when
God knocks on your
door and instead of
running off when you
don't answer in time

turns the handle anyway
crosses the room sits
down on your bed
at a safe distance
and asks what's wrong

Sometimes Shabbat only starts
feeling like Shabbat right
at the very end

3 toward the Omer #2

I ask God
for some manna

God replies that
I got some

yesterday But I
need more, God,

it's disappeared already,
give me those

words again walk
me there show

me one more
time I always

lose it I
forget so darn

quickly these days

3 toward the Omer

I ask God
for some manna

Turns out that
it's been coming

down for quite
a while now,

actually. I reach
back to white

petals, light through
windows, that hail

pelting us so
absurdly as we

scurried back home
just yesterday morning

2 toward the Omer

The start
starts after
the start

1 toward the Omer

(hesed shebhesed: benevolence that is in love)

lone
heart
reaches
lone
heart

lone
heart
lone
reaches

lone
heart
reaches
heart

lone
heart

lone
heart
lone
reaches
lone
heart

lone,
heart
reaches

lone,
lone
heart
reaches

lone,
reaches

lone
heart

lone
heart
reaches

Early

I thought it would be
another forty-nine days,
give or take, not like I was
counting or anything

but here you are,
here I am, here we
are you're so refreshingly
here and I don't think I'm even
blushing at all

it's calm here,
don't you think?
all the noise has gone away
just the two of us and this
wind, this torrent that whips my hair
and seems to blow you right into me

Proverbs 8 - Ecclesiastes 1

I stand at the entrance
to the roof she cries to me
a gust of molecules pushes my
molecules tucked behind
my molecules with more
molecules the sun is
setting it will rise again
tomorrow and she
will still be here
crying Your name, I have
your name, you are counted