Come join poet Esther Cohen and her filmmaker husband Peter Odabashian as they finally take a trip (in poems) after this interminable pandemic. They decided to leave their small New York City apartment to visit the amazing country of Mexico, rich with history, fantastic art, margueritas, and wonderful food.
Their trip (and this book) begins in Oaxaca, home to 18 indigenous groups, and the center of wonderful craftsmenship in many categories including clothing, rugs, jewelry, ceramics, paintings, and many forms of weaving. After a week in Oaxaca (and many rooftop drinks) they fly to Mexico City, home to 22 million people, as well as countless museums, miraculous murals, and the unforgettable house of Frida Kahlo.
From Mexico City, they go to San Miguel de Allende, one of the world’s most beautiful cities: yellow, orange, purple, blue. Hills, cobblestone streets, and many more memorable margueritas.
These poems, written along the way, are intended to take you too to Mexico. They can be purchased Here.
Breakfast With Allen Ginsberg
An imprecise while ago, I started writing a poem a day. As an exercise…The poems are a short, funny record (not a Memoir. Not laden with Significance, either) of what happens to me each day. Most of the time it’s very little.
“You are a poet, Esther Cohen.”
GOD IS A TREE
Today, I’m ready
to write my first prayer.
It’s middle-aged.
A long time ago
I had a bas mitzvah.
I wrote a prayer then too.
God is a tree was the title.
Louis Savitsky didn’t like it.
“This is how I want to pray. ”
“Just came across a lovely new book of poems by Esther Cohen entitled God Is a Tree, and Other Middle-Age Prayers. The publisher is dead on when describing the book: “You can’t help but smile when you encounter her delightful images.” For your reading pleasure, poem “Nine”:
Today I’m finally
ready to write a prayer.
This is it.
I had a Bas Mitzvah
a long time ago.
I wrote a prayer then, too.
God Is a Tree was my title.
Louis Savitsky didn’t like it.
Afterwards he asked me
why I had the chutzpah
to think God was a tree.
His daughter became a Scientologist.
This is my prayer for you, God.
Tree or not.
It’s more a song,
more Ry Cooder than Martin Buber.
I like them both.
You too,
on good days,
when I can sit
under a tree,
just sit.
Amen”
“This is a collection of 72 prayers, in the form of poems, numbered like the songs – written by an agnostic. This exercise in devotion-without-God inadvertently founds a new school of Buddhist poetry.”