Yitzhak Said

Yitzhak was my first boss.

He let me sleep in the 27th Street loft

where our office was until I found

an apartment and he gave me

his dead aunt’s lamp. I still have

her lamp. Saw Yitzhak and his wife

at a book party. It’s been

years. Your poems he began I told you this

years ago. Your poems aren’t

political enough. Look at the world

and look at your poems. That’s all

you have to do. Poems don’t have

to be anything I said,  what I told him

in 1974. That’s where you’re wrong Yitzhak

laughed. I see you haven’t changed.

Esther Cohen
Let me tell you why I'm here, and why I hope you'll join me. I am here to poem, to play with words, to tell stories when I can, and to ask you for yours. Words are what I love, how I see, and what I say. Words are how I know my life, and how I find my friends. I'm here to ask you to join me. Right here. To send me your stories, and your poems. And to read mine when you can.

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