Baruch November: St. Louis Park, M.N.
they would ask how it felt
“to be a kike, to taste a baby’s
blood, to kill a savior?”
January 7, 2020 · Leave a comment
Baruch November: Beard 7
In its color alone,
my beard is the sun falling upon the evening
and some days
it is chaffing brambles, poison
sumac, creeping red vines everywhere.
December 5, 2019 · Leave a comment
Baruch November: Summer, Duluth, M.N.
we reel
in crappie after crappie,
laughing at their name
and the ease at which
they are hooked
July 25, 2019 · Leave a comment
Baruch November: Our Captain Speaking
hard pretzels curved to the shape
of life’s perilous twists
May 23, 2019 · Leave a comment
