Clay Man of Cheese and Crackers
Lenore Weiss
12/12/2016
It wasn’t a job for one man let alone a clay man of cheese and crackers. At night after the lights on the block went out, all we could hear
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It wasn’t a job for one man let alone a clay man of cheese and crackers. At night after the lights on the block went out, all we could hear
I wanted to control him, but in a good way, like a Mickey Mousenik from the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, my honey-do mopping up mess with a wooden bucket, a live-in housekeeper on the look-out
Another golem came around. Oh, yes. There’s more than one. Talked to students, retirees, regular people. And what happened? Mein kinder cuckoo in the head tarred him with names: socialist, communist, devil— the usual thing
The Ghost Ship sailed into the Oakland harbor smelling of burning flesh. No one was left. That same day people marveled how hundreds of yellow marigolds, all sizes, grew beneath the ship’s bottom lifting its charred remains
Still unsettled from my last call, when Christian babies had been dug from graves and stashed inside Jewish kitchens to prove guilt, now up against energy efficient drones all rubble down the ritual hole
Twisted Bay laurel trunks lean down the hillside branches covered in moss scarves quail make a quick exit like a troupe of dancers racing across stage lights to fame, the